


Learning to Live Again

by Rookblonkorules



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: AU, Blood, Canon Disabled Character, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Emotional Trauma, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Language, PTSD, Panic Attacks, The Killing Joke, aftermath fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-01-23 04:25:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18542221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rookblonkorules/pseuds/Rookblonkorules
Summary: Batgirl meant everything to Barbara. Until the Joker's bullet took her legs from her and she's left trying to pick up the pieces of her shattered life. But the Joker is still out there. And his plans for the Batfamily are far from over.





	1. Open Windows

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so... I love Barbara. So much. She is such an incredibly strong woman and I've admired her from the time I first picked up a comic book with her in it.  
> And I'm a shameless Dick/Babs shipper.

Dick crouches atop the building across from the Gotham General Hospital, his blood raging in his ears.

The traffic continues on beneath him, drivers oblivious to anything but their own need to get where they’re going, and he is acutely aware of every horn blow, every screech from the tires below, even though his thoughts are occupied elsewhere.

The lights are on in the hospital, most of the curtains are closed tight, masking his view of the patients inside, but that doesn’t worry him.

He knows which room he’s looking for.

His lips form a grim line and, effortlessly, he swings across the street, landing gracefully on the sill outside one of the rooms.

He’s had plenty of experience breaking and entering-that sort of thing comes with being a vigilante-so opening it up and getting inside is no problem for him.

In fact, getting in is almost painfully easy.

Dick slips in, feet making no sound as they hit the floor. His heart is thudding in his chest, and his mouth suddenly feels dry.

He takes a step further into the room, noting the heart monitor, its shrill beeping keeping a steady pace… and then his heart stops as he sees her.

“Barbara,” Dick breathes. She looks so small, so fragile, there in the hospital bed, red hair scattered about her head like a halo. 

He wants to step forward, to take her hand at the very least, but he doesn’t. 

Something holds him back.

Dick’s eyes fall on the form of the Commissioner, asleep by his daughter’s bedside, and all at once he feels like an intruder in someone else’s life.

He shouldn’t be here. 

He doesn’t deserve to be here.

He  _ wasn’t  _ here.

Not when it counted.

Not when the woman who’s been like a sister to him for most of his life and who’s come to mean so much more to him than that took a bullet to the spine courtesy of a madman with a point to make and a gun.

_ He should have been there. _

There’s a low moan and Dick’s eyes snap to the Commissioner’s sleeping form.  He’s starting to stir and, even though he knows he has the man’s trust, he doesn’t want to be here when he wakes up.

Before the man has a chance to finish opening his eyes, he’s gone, not even a trace of his presence left behind.

It’s the brush of cold air that wakes Barbara. 

Slowly, she cracks her eyes open. Her room seems so empty, so cold and uncaring. This is supposed to be a place of healing, so why does it feel so  _ wrong? _

She stirs and then gasps, lying still, eyes focusing up, as the movement causes a dull pain in her abdomen to start up again.

Below that, she doesn’t feel anything.

Maybe, under different circumstances, if it didn’t mean what it means now, she’d be thankful for the lack of feeling… she’s never been a big fan of pain, but Barbara would give  _ anything  _ to feel pain right now if it meant having the use of her legs.

If it meant getting to soar the rooftops again.

Because this paralysis is permanent.

Batgirl is finished.

Restlessly, she scans the room, but no one else is there and she frowns.

There’s a grunt to her right and her eyes snap quickly to identify the source of the noise.

Her father is in a chair that looks far too small and hard to sleep comfortably in, blinking at her,  bleary eyed and rumpled, having just awoken from a slumber that was probably anything but restful.

He’s still in his work clothes, she realizes, and, at once, tears prick the corners of her eyes.

“Dad?” she whispers, fingers clutching the bedspread.

“Hey, Babs,” he answers, leaning forward. He offers a smile, but it’s so small and his eyes are tight and filled with pain.

She knows it’s killing him to see her like this. To know that there’s nothing he can do to grant her back the use of her legs.

To know that he’s already too late to stop the madman who did this to her.

Gordon pulls his chair closer to the bed and brushes Barbara’s hair away from her face, grasping her hand with his free one.

“How are you feeling?” he asks and Barbara considers the question for a moment.

She’s never going to walk again. 

How  _ does  _ she feel?

Angry.

Desperate.

Scared.

Defeated.

But Barbara doesn’t say any of those ugly words. 

Instead, she turns her head away, squeezing her eyes shut as if she’s seeking out sleep, but really, it’s to hold back the tears that threaten to spill if she doesn’t.

“Tired,” she tells him when she’s finally ready to meet his eyes again.

“Okay.” His hand tightens around hers and it dawns on Barbara that they’re both just pretending. Both pretending to be okay when they’re very, very not. “You should get some more rest.”

He leans over, pulling her gently into a hug. Barbara returns the gesture, wrapping her arms around him tightly, relishing his presence, his strength.

Suddenly, she’s eight years old again, being comforted after a bad fall off the balance beam in Gymnastics class, and she never wants to let go.

But, all too soon, he pulls away, keeping a reassuring grip on her hand.

And then suddenly, she remembers something.

“Dad, was anyone else in here?”

Her father gives her a strange look but shakes his head. “We’re alone.”

Barbara settles back against the pillow, gaze drifting to the window.

Somehow, she knows that’s not true.

Or at least that it wasn’t.

“Barbara?” her father asks, concern lacing his tone.

His eyes follow her gaze to the window, but there’s nothing there.

Not anymore.

“Are you okay?”

Barbara nods, turning to face him again. She gives his hand a squeeze. “Yes. I’m fine.”

He smiles sadly and leans back in his chair, accepting her answer.

Or maybe he doesn’t accept it.

But he’s choosing to believe it.

For now.

Because he has to.

Because  _ she  _ has to.

Because more than anything, Barbara just wants to be fine.

Barbara’s eyes slide back to the window, wondering if maybe Bruce had changed his route to check up on her.

That thought stays with her as she slowly sinks back to fitful sleep.


	2. Visiting Hours

Dick approaches the woman at the desk. He can’t keep his hands still so finally, he sticks them in the pockets of his hoodie, where they can remain out of sight, out of mind.

“Richard Grayson,” he tells the woman at the desk, who stares at him suspiciously from behind her wire-rimmed glasses. “I’m here to see,” he takes a deep breath, “Barbara Gordon.”

“Are you a relative?” the woman asks, bored, and, for a second, Dick draws a blank.

Should he lie? Say he’s her brother? He already gave the woman his full name and it’s definitely not Richard  _ Gordon _ so he doubts that will work.

Her cousin maybe?

The idea almost sounds like it would work, but he hesitates a moment too long and the woman’s frown deepens.

“I’m a friend,” he says quickly, before the woman can call security and have him thrown out. He wonders if she can really do that. She certainly looks like she wants to.

“Friend?” she repeats, leaning forward so as to better get a good look at him. “I’m sorry, but only relatives are allowed during visiting hours,” she tells him primly, apparently satisfied that he’s no good..

“I…” He has no words, no way to tell her how important it is for him to get up there. How important  _ she  _ is. “It’s important,” he says pleadingly and maybe some of his emotion bleeds through because there’s some semblance of sympathy when the woman looks at him now, but he can tell that the answer is still no.

He doesn’t want to share any of their history, but what else is there to tell her?

Maybe coming as Nightwing was the better plan.

He runs a hand through his hair. “Look…”

“Dick?”

Dick turns and sees Commissioner Gordon heading in his direction, a fast food bag in his hand.

“Commissioner!” Dick says by way of greeting. Gordon looks worse than he’s ever seen him before, face haggard and worn.

Dick smiles sympathetically, even as the guilt eats away at his soul.

_ He should have been there. _

The Commissioner stops at the receptionist desk. “You having some trouble here, son?” Gordon asks.

The corner of his mouth twitches as if he’s trying to smile in return, but winds up failing.

The woman huffs indignantly and frowns at him disapprovingly, but Gordon’s attention is on Dick.Not trusting himself to speak, Dick nods slowly and the Commissioner turns to the woman, who smiles, but looks as though she thinks she can stare him down.

Really, they should get a better receptionist.

Or maybe she’s just had a bad day.

He’s certainly having one.

“This young man is with me,” Gordon tells the receptionist. “He’s,” he glances sideways at Dick, “a dear friend of my daughter’s.”

The receptionist peers closely at Dick, as if she suspects that this is all some conspiracy, but in the end, she lets them through.

“Thank you,” Dick tells the Commissioner as the two of them step into the elevator, “for coming through for me there.” He doesn’t know what he would have done otherwise.

Come to think of it, he’d have probably ended up having to use the window as a doorway again, however less than ideal that is.

The Commissioner heaves a sigh and looks at Dick. “Son, you’ve been her best friend since the time Wayne took you in and she’s going to need all of us here for her.”

And he’s been away for so long. Away in Bludhaven.

He’d only heard about what had happened when it came up on the news.

Dick swallows, staring straight ahead. 

“I should have been there,” he says finally, and he’s not sure  _ why  _ he’s said it, but he has. He might as well have flipped some kind of switch, because the instant the words have left his mouth, Gordon tenses.

“What?” Gordon asks and it’s on the tip of Dick’s tongue to say, “Nothing.”

“I should have been there,” he repeats and the words feel heavy, hanging in the air. “If I’d stayed in Gotham, maybe…”

“Maybe you could have done something,” Gordon finishes for him gently and Dick lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“Yeah,” he says softly and somehow his voice manages to break on that one word. “Yeah.”

“It’s all I can think about,” the Commissioner admits. “I wasn’t there when she opened the door to that psychopath. And I keep thinking that if I’d been there, if I’d had my gun…”

“You’d have been able to stop him,” Dick finishes quietly this time. “It wouldn’t have to be like this.”

The Commissioner slowly breathes out. “Yeah,” he answers almost in a whisper and his hand tightens around the fast food bag, causing the paper to crackle.

Dick falls silent and the silence stretches on between them.

He clears his throat, but, before he can speak a word, the elevator  _ dings _ , signaling their floor has been reached, and the doors slide open.

Dick holds back, intending to let the Commissioner exit first, but Gordon shakes his head. “After you, Son,” he says and Dick exits before him.

Gordon follows close behind him and falls into step beside him.

....

 

Barbara just wishes something would happen. Her father had left almost an hour ago, saying something about picking up some food that was actually edible rather than letting her eat anymore of the vile hospital meals that try to pass as food.

But Barbara does not want to be left alone with her thoughts right now.

Being alone with her thoughts means facing things that Barbara does not want to deal with currently.

Nothing else to do, she grabs the remote and begins flicking through the channels on the television provided in her hospital room.

Nothing good is on, but anything is better than the silence, and the thoughts that come with it.

Barbara finally settles on some mindless drama.

She knows none of the characters, nor does she care to, but it feels good to lose herself. To pretend that nothing else mattered. That this is just a day like any other.

“Knock, knock,” a welcome voice calls at her door, and she brightens as her father appears. “You up, sweetheart?”   
“Dad!” Barbara smiles as he enters the room…

… and then freezes as a very familiar figure follows behind him.

“Dick,” she whispers.

Dick manages a small smile.

“Hey, Babs.”

Her mouth opens as she struggles to find the words, but finally she closes it again and settles for returning the smile.

Her father straightens his tie awkwardly and places the bag on the little stand next to the hospital bed. 

Gordon bends over and places a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll let you guys have some time together.”

“Wait,” Barbara grabs his hand, “you don’t have to go!”

“I don’t want to intrude,” Dick says at the same time, hastily stepping forward.

Gordon smiles apologetically, gently extracting his hand from Barbara’s. She releases him without protest.

“It’s alright,” he assures them. “You two could use some time together. Besides, I have some catching up to do at work anyways.” He sighs, face hardening for an instant, before giving Barbara’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “I’ll be back later. Okay?”   
“Okay,” Barbara answers, meeting his eyes.

He leaves, stopping briefly on the way to pat Dick on the shoulder, pausing briefly as he does so.

Then he’s gone, leaving the two of them alone.

Dick clears his throat, slowly taking a seat next to her bed. 

“Hey,” he says, moving to take her hand, but then he stops, hesitating, gaze dropping to his lap.

Barbara reaches out, taking his hand, and Dick’s eyes snap to her face, before he gives her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Hey,” she says. Her eyes fill with tears and she hurriedly blinks them away, brushing at her hair to hide them. 

She’s missed him, she realizes.

“I-I’m happy you’re here,” she whispers, and then gasps as she feels him wrap her arms around, pulling her close.

Barbara returns the hug, burying her face against his shoulder, feeling his hand sink into her hair.

It’s been so long since either of them have seen the other.

Far too long.

“Are…” Dick takes a breath, before asking, as they pull away from each other, concern written on every line of his face, “are you okay?” He winces ad rubs the back of his neck, giving her a sort of helpless look. “Okay. Stupid question, I know, but, there’s really no right way to phrase this” he looks to her, “how are you feeling, Barbara? Really?”

“You’re a dork, Richard Grayson,”Barbara tells him, smiling fondly despite herself. She reaches out, brushing her fingers against his face.

She considers the question honestly. 

She’s paralyzed. 

She will be for the rest of her life. 

But things could have turned out so much worse. 

“I’m alive,” she says. “I’ll be fine.”

Now all she has to do is believe that.

...  
  


In hindsight, Dick really should have expected it. This is Gotham city. At night.

Of course he was going to run into the Batman when he headed out for patrol, too restless to do anything but.

He wonders if Bruce sees this as an invasion of his territory and tenses for the fight he’s sure to come.

It doesn’t come.

“You’ve heard.” It’s a statement. Not a question, an observation.

And Dick doesn’t need to ask Bruce for clarification to know what he’s talking about.

“Yes,” Dick grinds out. “No thanks to you.” He feels his fury build within him, anger at Bruce, anger at the callous “you’ve heard,” anger at this whole entire, damn situation. 

_ This is Barbara,  _ the voice in the back of his mind whispers.

She deserves more respect than that.

His hands ball into fists at his side.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks. “Why wouldn’t you have  _ called?  _ This is Barbara!” He’s raging, and he’s not sure if it’s intended for Bruce or for himself, a result of whatever pent up guilt he’s dealing with.

_ He should have been there. _

The now familiar words repeat themselves again and he grits his teeth.

“I didn’t get to hear what happened until someone brought it up at the station,”  Dick tells him harshly. “You didn’t think that maybe I deserved to know when Barbara…” he works his jaw, dropping his voice to almost a whisper, “when Babs got shot? You didn’t think to tell me?”

Deep inside, he knows that, with the way he left things with Bruce the last time, maybe he shouldn’t have expected to hear from the man, but it still stings that he had to hear about it from one of his coworkers.

“I was busy,” Bruce says tightly, though his tone makes it clear that he does not appreciate being questioned.

Dick manages a bitter laugh. “Right. Busy. And what if… what if she had died?” The words hurt coming out of his mouth, but he needs to ask. Needs to know. “Would you have been too busy then too?” he challenges. His blood is working up to a boil and he closes his eyes behind the mask, inhaling deeply, and willing himself to calm down. “Tell me you would have,” he says, almost pleadingly.

_ You wouldn’t have left me in the dark. Not with this. _

He’s angry, yes, but he doesn’t want this to escalate anymore than it has to.

Not like last time.

Bruce tightens his jaw. “I would have told you,” he says and, not for the first time, Dick wonders what the man is thinking.

“Where’s Robin?” he asks, it finally dawning on him that the Bat has been flying solo. “Don’t tell me you fired him too.” Dick can’t resist the biting words, though he regrets them almost the minute they pass his lips.

He doesn’t take them back, however, a part of him genuinely curious to hear how the new boy is faring.

“He stayed behind,” Bruce snaps, a little too sharply, and Dick is a little taken aback by his defensiveness.

Dick narrows his eyes. “You’re not telling me something,” he says. “Batman… Bruce,” he uses the man’s real name in the hopes of having a better chance reaching him, “whatever it is, tell me. Please.”

Bruce glares at him from under the cowl, but doesn’t reprimand Dick for breaking protocol.

Dick wonders if his plea was for nothing. If Bruce is going to tell him to go home to Bludhaven.

But when he finally speaks, Dick almost wishes he hadn’t.

“The Joker is still out there.”


	3. Returning Home Isn't Always Easy

Dick hasn’t set foot in the Manor in almost a year.

Not since the last fight he’d had with Bruce.

The fight which had ended with him storming back to Bludhaven, angry and devastated.

He’d felt it was best to give Bruce his space.

Or maybe he just hadn’t want to deal with the man any longer.

Give himself time to settle into his new life.

Dick hadn’t tried to get in touch since that day, with the days stretching into weeks and the weeks stretching into months.

Time sure did fly by.

Maybe he’d hoped that Bruce would be the one to pick up the phone, be the one to apologize, to seek to make things right.

He should have known better.

His stomach works itself in knots and his mouth downturns into a stiff frown…

...and then he finally brings his finger to the doorbell.

The way the door swings open almost instantaneously leads Dick to wonder not uncharitably if Alfred has nothing better to do with his time than wait by the door, hoping for a stray bird to ring the bell.

Even so, Dick can tell that his sudden appearance has rocked him underneath all that British stoicism. 

He realizes how hard this must have been on the man who’s loved him, loved  _ all  _ of them, like a grandfather, who’s seen them all at their best and at their worst and who’s never loved them any less for their faults..

First, with his own departure for Bludhaven. And then the assault on Barbara.

And he… he hadn’t even called. He’d finally been getting his life together. He’d thought Bruce didn’t want to hear from him.

Dick opens his mouth to say something, but finds that guilt has stolen his voice. He swallows past the lump in his throat. “Hey, Alfred,” he manages to say.

“Master Richard,” Alfred says in return and, from the sound of things, there’s a lump in  _ his  _ throat as well. For a moment, Dick thinks he sees a faint glimmer in the old man’s eyes and, damn it, it  _ hurts  _ to see Alfred like this.

But before he can say anything, before he can even get a chance to  _ apologize _ even, Alfred has stepped aside, motioning for him to step inside. 

“Welcome home, Master Richard,” he tells him. “You’re far past due for a visit.” He smiles, though his eyes remain sorrowful. “Though perhaps I wish it had come at a happier time than this.”

Dick does, trying not to wince as Alfred’s words hit home, and another twinge of guilt sings a chord through his soul.

Crossing the threshold brings Dick a sense of coming home. It feels  _ right _ , like it’s been waiting here for him all this time.

Dick forces the thought down almost immediately. 

Barbara’s the reason he’s here. To help Bruce take down the Joker.

His own feelings are going to have to wait until a better time.

And so will his apology to Alfred, it would seem.

“Master Bruce is down in the cave. He hasn’t left all morning. I doubt he even went to bed when he came home last night.” Alfred tells him, with a shake of his head. “Master Jason went down there to join him only a few hours ago.”

Dick tries not to react to the kid’s name, as they move deeper into the house, to the old grandfather clock in Bruce’s study.

Alfred continues sadly, “He and Miss Gordon were partnered on patrol quite often. I believe he’s come to look to her as he would an older sister. He’s been devastated by the attack, I’m afraid. Master Bruce has been… less than forthcoming with his feelings,” Alfred gives a heavy sigh, “but you know how he is.”

_ Yes, yes I do, _ Dick thinks, but doesn’t say.

He understands, almost automatically, what Alfred is asking of him.

Alfred wants him to be there for them, for all of them. To help him hold them all together.

But he’s not so sure he can.

Dick turns the clock hands to the correct time and the clock slides aside, revealing a secret entranceway to the cave beneath.

Alfred stands behind him.

“I trust you will have more common sense than your… father in this matter?” the butler asks him before he can descend the staircase into the Batman’s lair.   
Dick chooses to ignore the word Alfred used to describe Bruce for the time being.

“In what way?” Dick asks, though he’s pretty sure he already knows what the butler is going to say.

“Rest,” Alfred says firmly, and Dick knows he’s been over this countless times with Bruce. “Neither of you are going to be able to apprehend the Joker… or be able to help Miss Gordon if you are too exhausted to remain on your feet.”

Dick gives him a tired smile, meant to reassure. Alfred knows them all too well. “I’ll make sure to get some rest, Alfred,” he promises.

The staircase to the Batcave is barely illuminated. The lights give off a soft, warm glow that just manage to penetrate the darkness and give the passage an eerie feel.

Only when one reaches the main cave do the lights brighten.

Bruce is, predictably, sitting in front of the large computer monitors, sorting through countless feeds. 

Dick’s eyes then fall upon a dark-head of hair, watching Bruce work from a chair off to the side.

He clears his throat, deciding it would be best to make his presence known sooner rather than later.

“Any progress?” he asks.

If Bruce is surprised by his entrance, he doesn’t show it, merely spinning the chair around to face him.

“Dick,” he greets, tonelessly.

The new boy-Jason- however, shoots to his feet, whipping around with an expression that’s a mixture between surprise and not-quite hostility. “What are you doing here?” he demands.

“I told Bruce I’d help him with the… with the case,” Dick explains, trying-and failing-to keep his voice light. He can’t.

The end result is that he sounds somewhat choked on the last word.

“He’s helping to apprehend the Joker,” Bruce supplies and Jason relaxes, though he still eyes Dick suspiciously. He wants Joker caught just as much he and Bruce do. Maybe even more.

He thinks back to what Alfred had said upstairs.

That Jason and Barbara had become close.

He can see the fire in the boy’s eyes. The desire to  _ do  _ something and the angry frustration because he  _ can’t. _

He sees it and he understands it.

Bruce stands. “Jason, leave the cave,” he orders.

Jason jerks his head towards him, surprised. “What? But you said…”

Bruce sets his jaw. “Now, Jason.”

Jason looks like he wants to argue further, but then clamps his jaw shut. “Fine,” he grinds out, turning to march up the stairs.

Dick watches him go, before turning back to Bruce. “Not letting him in on the case?” he asks.

“Don’t start with me, Dick,” Bruce warns. “I don’t want him getting any ideas. Jason is  _ fourteen _ . He’s not going anywhere near that clown.”

Dick takes a step back, holding his hands up. “I wasn’t implying…” he begins, but Bruce already has his back towards him. Dick sighs, dropping his hands. “Fine. Be like that.”

He moves behind him, eyes scanning the screen. “ What have you found?”

“So far, nothing.” Bruce gives him a sideways glance. “What are you doing here, Dick?”

Dick crosses his arms stubbornly. “I told you I was going to help. You can’t expect me to just sit on the sidelines for this, Bruce. This is Barbara.”

“I know.” Bruce’s lips thin.

“Then why are you so against having my help?” Dick challenges. 

Bruce doesn’t answer.

Dick clenches his jaw and feels his fingernails digging into the flesh of his palm. “Don’t tell me it’s your pride that has you wound up this tight, Bruce.”

“You said it yourself.” Bruce gives Dick a hard-eyed glance. “This is Barbara we’re talking about.”

Dick’s mouth hangs open. “I… what…” His gaze hardens, nostrils flaring. “What are you suggesting, Bruce?”

Bruce shoots him a tired glare. “Your emotions aren’t under control, Dick. In this kind of work, going out like that is what’s going to get you killed.”

Dick waves a hand. “And you think  _ yours  _ are? You’re not invincible, Bruce! One of these days, you’re going to need us, you know.”

Bruce looks at him pointedly and his silence is answer enough.

Dick tightens his fists. “Fine,” he grinds out. “Point taken. But I am  _ not  _ letting you handle this alone.”

Bruce frowns at him, but Dick stands his ground, raising his chin.

Bruce stares at him a second longer. “We’re doing this my way,” he tells him. “Or you’re not helping at all.”

And Dick allows himself a small smile.

He can work with that.

 

There’s a certain ancientness to the Gotham Public Library, Jason thinks. With its marble columns, the building is reminiscent of early Greek structures. Just less impressive, he supposes.

And just as worn down.

Barbara volunteers here.

Or works here at this point.

She told him, but he wasn’t really listening at the time.

In any case, he figures Barbara would at least want to keep up some semblance of normalcy.

Which means she’d be coming here, right?

He stops on the steps and takes a last look behind him.

Alfred is waiting for him in the car across the street. Jason raises his hand in a wave, before darting the rest of the way up the steps and into the library.

Inside the library, it’s as if Jason has stepped outside of Gotham and landed in another place entirely.

The atmosphere is completely different, quiet and still.

Jason’s not sure he likes it.

The quiet makes him nervous and he’s never really been one to keep still for long.

He finds he can’t keep his hands still, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, and he’s bouncing on his toes.

The old woman at the desk shoots him a murderous glare, even as she finishes stamping the books of a patron with a flourish.

Jason drops his hands to his sides, stepping forward.

“Is Babs…” Jason catches himself, “...Barbara here?” he asks slowly.

“You’re a friend, aren’t you?” the librarian asks,squinting at him through her glasses, but the lines around her eyes soften. “I’m sure I’ve seen you around.”

“Yeah,” Jason says, trying to remember the woman’s name. 

Mrs. Hamilton?

Horris?

It’s something with an H, he remembers.

“Something wrong, young man?” Mrs. H looks at him sharply, tapping her fingers against the desk.

Jason jolts, startled, and returns his attention to the woman. “Um, no.” His eyes fall on the hair piled atop her head, the ends of several pencils sticking out.“Is Barbara… is she here?”

The moment the words have left his mouth, he realizes it was too much to hope for.

It’s  a stupid question.

Coming here was a dumb idea.

“No, she’s not.” The woman shakes her head, eyeing Jason with a look that’s half suspicious, half-sympathetic. “Haven’t you heard?”

Jason winces. “Yeah,” he says, and struggles to keep his tone level, as he glowers at the floor. He looks back up. “I just thought… maybe she would…” 

_ Be here.  _

The librarian shakes her head regretfully. “‘Fraid not.” She pounds her fist down on the desk. “And that smiley-faced bastard still out there too! What are our police doing if not keeping maniacs like that locked up?” she demands, indignant. “Poor girl.” She shakes her head again and the updo threatens to come undone. “Poor girl.”

Jason shifts and her head snaps up again. Her gaze lands on Jason and she blinks, as if trying to remember when he got there.

“And you… Do you need a book?” She stands and walks around the desk. “Let me see what we have in the young adult section. A good book. That does wonders to the soul. A good book will  _ always _ be there for you.”

“What?” Jason stammers, following after her. Has she lost her marbles or something? “I don’t want a…” 

He sneaks a quick glance at the double door behind him.

Alfred is still waiting for him out in the car.

He won’t know to come in.

“I just want to see my friend!” Jason stops short.

“Honey, I know you do,” Mrs H says, throwing up her hands. “But she’s not here.”   
“I know,” Jason grinds out. He considers turning and running out the doors then and there.

But Alfred would be disappointed.

He could lie.

But he’d learned fast that lying to Alfred wasn’t something you got away with.

So reluctantly he follows her to the shelves…

… and a half hour later he walks out with a book he hasn’t even looked at the cover of.

“This was a dumb idea,” he mutters as soon as he’s sitting in the car. He puts the book on the seat beside him and finally takes a moment to take a glance at the cover.

Someone-some kid -is shown in various stages as she completes the transformation to dolphin.

_ Weird _ , he thinks, turning his attention away.

But then again, not so weird, considering the kind of world he lives in.

“And what makes you say that, Master Jason?” Alfred asks mildly. Only his single raised eyebrow as he glances in the rearview mirror betrays his interest.

“Barbara wasn’t there.” Jason crosses his arms and frowns at him. “And the librarian made me get a book.”

“We can always stop by her father’s apartment, Master Jason,” Alfred assures him gently. “And a bit more reading won’t do you any harm.”

“Sure it won’t.” Jason shrugs, looking decidedly downcast. As if he could care about a stupid book right now. “Maybe we should just go back home.”


	4. Nighttime Intruders

Jim Gordon grinds the heel of his palm against his face, sitting up in bed. He spares a glance at the window. The faintest amount of light leaks in through the curtains. 

It’s close to dawn.

A peek at the digital clock on his nightstand confirms it.

It’s far too early for him to be awake.

So why is he?

Tossing the covers off of himself, he clambers out of bed. He’s in the middle of reaching for the cord to turn on the lamp when he hears it.

Carnival music, low but still audible, is coming from his living room.

He forgets the lamp, and instantly reaches for the drawer where he keeps his gun.

Taking it up, he keeps his finger ready at the trigger.

Slowly, he taps open the door with his foot and enters the hall.

His daughter’s room is right across from his and he takes a moment to glance inside.

He can just make out Barbara, still sleeping, and lets out a breath of relief.

Something thuds in the living room and he jerks towards the sound, swinging his gun back up.

Cautiously, he advances forward, muscles tense.

His ears strain to pick up any sound that might come but the house is deathly quiet.

Jim comes to a stop once he’s within the living room, and reaches a hand out, intending to switch on a light.

His finger reaches the switch, but when he flicks it, nothing happens.

The lights are dead.

“Commissioner Gordon.” There’s a certain false friendliness to the voice that raises the hairs along Jim’s arms. “I’m disappointed. Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

“ _ You!” _ Jim snarls, hands tightening around the gun, as a figure, pasty white face and eternal grin, steps into view. “How dare you come into my house. After what you did!”

The smile widens, lips peeling back even further. “I’m disappointed, Jim. Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

Jim grits his teeth. 

He can shoot this bastard here and now and finally be done with it.

His finger starts to pull the trigger…

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Commissioner,” Joker says gleefully, holding up a remote.

Jim freezes, but he doesn’t lower the gun. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you now,” he challenges.

“A bomb in your daughter’s bedroom.” His eyes are wide with glee.

A chill sweeps through Jim’s body. The thought of this maniac anywhere near Barbara again…

He keeps the gun trained on Joker.

“You might be able to kill me, Commish,” Joker says, delighted, “but will you be able to before Barbara,” Jim snarls at the clown’s casual mention of his daughter. He doesn’t deserve to say her name, “goes boom?”

He waves the remote, finger hovering threateningly over the button.

The weapon goes down. “What do you want?” he asks.

The Joker taps his chin thoughtfully, feigning puzzlement. “Now, now, what _ ever _ could I be after?” 

Jim is clutching the gun so tight that his knuckles are turning white, but the Joker doesn’t to notice, too caught up in his own insanity.

The grin is back again. “Tell Batsy I’m not finished with him. I have plans for him-so  _ many  _ plans!” He laughs, throwing his hands in the air. “The ole Bat will never see it coming. I’m going to take everything- _ everything _ \- from him!”

“Stay away from my family!” Jim snarls.

“Dad?” Barbara’s voice reaches him and he turns to see her wheeling her chair out of her room, still clad in her pajamas, hair messy and face confused.

Horror sweeps through Jim, and he lurches towards her. “Barbara, no!”

Without thinking, he fires off a shot in the Joker’s direction, not thinking to aim in his haste.

“Dad, what’s happening?” Barbara asks. Her face is white, hands clutching the wheels of her chair.

“Don’t move!” Jim orders her. He lunges back in the direction of the Joker, but the villain has inexplicably disappeared.

His eyes dart around frantically, but there’s no sign of the Joker, aside from the front door swinging open.

Hurriedly, he shuts it, but it seems so inadequate.

The monster was in their  _ house. _

“Dad?”  Barbara’s voice trembles only slightly, but it’s enough to snap Jim out of his haze. Turning, he rushes down the hall in a frenzy, not stopping until he’s reached Barbara’s room.

He flicks on the light and desperately scans the room, looking for any of the bomb.

“Dad, what are you doing?” Barbara asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Jim ignores her, tossing boxes aside.

There’s nothing.

Until he checks under the bed.

Scrambling forward, he reaches under and withdraws his hand holding a cheap, plastic bomb, the word “BOOM!” written across the side in big, block letters.

His hands tremble and he closes his eyes, leaning back on his heels.

A small gasp sounds behind him and Jim turns his eyes to Barbara. A hand pressed up against her mouth, Barbara eyes the toy bomb, horror and shock etched across every line of her face.

“He was in our house,” she says, eyes never leaving the bomb. “He was in my  _ room _ !”

She ducks her head, burying her face in her hands, and Jim is quick to move to her side. 

“Won’t he ever just leave us  _ alone?” _

  
  


Dick can already tell something’s wrong by the time he reaches the Manor.

He tries to ignore the way his stomach is churning, but, so far, it’s not working.

“Bruce, what’s wrong? What happened?” he asks.

The fact that Bruce is meeting him  _ here _ , in the Manor, rather than in the cave already has several alarm bells ringing.

Bruce is waiting for him, tense and grim, but there’s also something else there.

Something Dick has seen rarely, if ever, present in the Batman.

Helplessness.

Dick’s seen anger.

He’s seen worry.

Hell, he’s even seen fear, when his own life was at stake.

But there’s always been that determination underneath it. 

That confidence that always told Dick that, no matter what, he knows what to do.

A confidence that reassured  Dick countless times during his days as Robin.

Something aches in the back of Dick’s throat and he has difficulty swallowing.

“Bruce,” the shakiness in his tone can’t be helped, but he works to keep his tone level, “tell me.”

“The Joker visited Jim and Barbara in their home last night.”

“What?” 

Fear leaves a sour taste in his mouth and he takes a frantic step forward. 

“Barbara,” he whispers.

The Joker went back for her.

Taking her legs wasn’t enough for him.

He went  _ back  _ for her.

Dick clenches his fists. A faint tremor runs through them.

“Is… is she… okay?” he asked.

Bruce told him his emotions were getting in his way.

He was right.

He forces his feelings to the back burner.

“They’re fine,” Bruce says gruffly, and  Dick knows that “fine” is just his way of saying “unhurt.”

As in physically.

Because no one is ever just “fine” after a visit from the Joker.

He taints everything. He leaves pain wherever he goes.

And he’s already brought so much pain to Barbara.

“But… why?” Dick asks, because, no matter how grateful he is, it just doesn’t make any  _ sense  _ that the Joker would just leave them unharmed. “To what purpose? What does he want?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce answers, shaking his head. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to Jim yet.”

Dick takes a seat, leaning back against the couch cushions. He folds his hands, letting them hang between his knees.

Bruce remains standing, hands tucked in his pockets.

“Does Jason know?” The question slips out as soon as it occurs to him. Because if Jason and  Barbara were as close as Alfred said they were- and he knows Alfred doesn’t exaggerate-then the boy can’t be taking this well.

Bruce’s expression tightens. “No, he doesn’t.”

Dick frowns. “And you aren’t going to tell him, are you?”

Bruce’s silence is answer enough for him.

Dick inhales slowly. “Bruce, don’t you think that, maybe, he deserves to know?”

“I’ll tell him,” Bruce says sternly. “But, right now, he doesn’t need to think about that. I told you before. He’s fourteen. I want him kept out of this.”

“Kept out of what?”

Dick stiffens, but Bruce hardly flinches.

Jason stands halfway in the room, staring at them in a manner that is both challenging and suspicious.

“Jason,” Bruce begins, a warning clear in his tone.

Jason crosses his arms, raising his chin stubbornly and refusing to back down. “I already know what this is about,” he says, glaring. “I’m not stupid. And you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not going to get myself killed.”

Dick finds himself seeking eye contact with Bruce.  _ Tell him,  _ he urges mentally, and Bruce sets his jaw, clearly getting the message.

With the Joker making an attack against their makeshift family, they can’t afford to be divided in any way.

He knows it.

And Bruce knows it too. 

Bruce might want to protect them, but he has to be able to see that keeping things from them is not the way.

Bruce stares at him for what seems like a long moment, before finally shifting. “The Joker,” he says, choosing his words carefully, “was at the Gordons’ home last night.”

Jason’s eyes widen and it’s not hard to guess what conclusion he’s reached.

“Barbara is unharmed. So is Jim,” says Bruce, assuring Jason before he can react. “He’s looking to hurt me and he will go after both of you to in order to do so.” His face hardens. “You will not be going on patrol until I say otherwise.”

He shoots Dick a look. “That includes you.”

Dick opens his mouth to point out that he, technically, is an adult, living on his own, and he doesn’t need Bruce Wayne’s permission to leave the house, but he thinks the better of it, instead asking, “So what do we do instead?”


	5. What Doesn't Kill You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if anyone is following this, but if you are, I sincerely apologize for the lack of updates. This story IS actually completed on my fanfiction.net profile. I don't know why it's taking me so long to upload them here. I tend to be more active over on the other site.

Barbara’s heart is still racing, even as her head feels heavy with exhaustion.

She wants nothing more than to be able to sleep, but she doesn’t think she can.

She doesn’t think she wants to.

Not after last night.

Her father hadn’t wanted to leave her alone today, but she’d insisted that he show up for work.

She could take care of herself and his presence and help at the station would lend a hand in quickening the capture of the Joker.

If it made him feel better, she would spend the day with Dick and Jason.

Now she almost wishes he’d stayed.

As grateful as she is for the boys’ presence, she doesn’t want to fall apart while they’re here.

And she feels two steps away from falling apart.

Neither of them have mentioned the Joker…

 If they had she’s sure her walls would have crumbled.

She’s guessing they know it too and they’re keeping a respectful distance.

And as much as she appreciates it, she doesn’t want to be treated like she’s fragile.

Like she’s going to fall apart.

Because that’s how she feels.

She wheels her chair into the kitchen, where she pours herself a glass of milk.

Damn it, isn’t there a single spot in this city where she can feel safe? Where memories of… of _him_ don’t follow her?

Don’t haunt her dreams and plague her waking moments.

The image of a pasty white face, a ghastly grin, a flash of fire and smoke, intrudes upon her thoughts and she drops the glass with a gasp.

It shatters on the tile floor, startling her back into reality, and, for a moment, all she can do is stare.

“Hey!” Dick’s hand is suddenly on her shoulder and she jumps, turning to meet his eyes. “Babs, stay with me. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Barbara stares at him, confused, for a moment longer.

Behind him, she can spot Jason hovering, looking worried, unsure and largely uncomfortable.

“You with us?” Dick asks, and her attention snaps back to him.

She nods slowly. “Yeah. I think so. Yes.” She offers him a small smile. 

Dick doesn’t quite look convinced and Barbara decides it might be time for a subject change.

As if she hadn’t just had a panic attack (a minor one, she protests) moments earlier.

“Why don’t we watch TV?” she suggests. 

Dick’s eyebrows go up skeptically, but he nods anyways. “Fine. What do you want?”

Barbara shrugs. “Something stupid.”

She can’t honestly say she cares what it is they decide to do.

As long as it’s nothing with guns.

Or bloodshed.

“No cop shows,” she tells Dick quickly, and Dick gives her a serious look, even if his eyes contain a faint trace of amusement.

“Of course not.”

Her eyes automatically drift to the floor, where glass shards rest in a spreading pool of milk. “I…” she begins, confused. 

She had dropped that, hadn’t she?

“I’ll take care of it,” Dick sighs. Then, he smiles and jerks his head in the direction of the living room. “You go and hang out with Jason while I’m at it.”

Barbara manages a raised eyebrow. “Really, Grayson?” Dick winces, looking sheepish, as he picks several of the larger pieces off the ground. “Sorry, that didn’t come out right.”

Barbara shakes her head, exhaustion overwhelming her again. “No. It’s okay,” she says. “Just don’t cut yourself.”

A familiar spark lights in Dick’s eyes and he grins, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “You know me. I never cut myself.”

A shred of her old self returns and Barbara finds herself rolling her eyes. “Please, Dick. I was there when you cut your thumb open trying to help Dad prepare dinner, remember? We had to drop everything so we could take you to the emergency room for stitches!”

Dick laughs. “Okay, fine. There was that one time. But I promise I’ll be careful tonight, okay?”

Barbara smiles. “Okay.”

Jason has retreated to the couch where he now sits, hands dangling between his knees, staring at his sneakers, when Barbara makes her way to the living room.

Barbara clears her throat, drawing his attention. “Hey.”

Jason’s face brightens when he sees her. “Hey.”

Jason’s never been one for physical contact, not unless it somehow involved fisticuffs, so she doesn’t expect to suddenly have his arms wrapped around her neck.

But then it occurs to her that this is the first he’s seen her since before Joker’s assault.

He hadn’t come to see her in the hospital and she suspects that that was Bruce’s doing.

Part of her is grateful for that.

She wouldn’t have wanted Jason to see her that way, helpless and in a hospital bed.

Ideally, Barbara doesn’t want him to have to see her like this either, but that’s something she has no control over.

She hugs him back tightly, releasing him when she senses him pulling back.

Jason toes the carpet awkwardly when she does, before he looks back up at her.

“So… Dick mentioned TV?” Jason sits back on the couch.

Barbara gives a small smile, but it feels forced. Like it no longer belongs on her face. “A distraction.”

She grabs the remote from its place on the side table and begins flicking through channels. “So… what’ll it be?” she asks, keeping her voice light. “Documentaries? Maybe a romantic comedy?”

Jason gags, making a face, and shakes his head.

“Fine,” Barbara shakes her head back at him, “but  _ I’m  _ choosing what we watch.”

Jason grins and settles back against the couch.

A half hour later and Dick has joined them, having cleaned up the kitchen  _ and  _ ordered pizza while he was at it.

Barbara had, by that point, already settled on a channel, though how much attention any one of them actually paid to the show, was anyone’s guess.

“So… you actually just ran into the burning building?” Barbara asks, laughing at how ridiculous the whole situation sounds. 

She’s glad to see that the story even has Jason smiling.

“Yup!” Dick grins, looking absolutely thrilled with his retelling. “Amy’s been convinced I’m insane ever since.”

“She’s not wrong,” Barbara comments playfully in between a mouthful of microwaveable popcorn.

Jason snorts, reaching over 

The doorbell rings then, shattering the moment. 

Something freezes inside Barbara and Dick stands, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Better go get that,” he says, and heads towards the door.

A grin, a flash of fire, a pool of blood growing steadily larger all flash through her mind in an instant… and it all started with a doorbell.

“Dick, no!” she shouts, panicked. She can’t let him open the door! She can’t let him be hurt! “Don’t open the door!”

“Barbara?” Jason is suddenly in front of her, grasping her by the shoulders. “Barbara, it’s okay! Dick’s just getting the pizza.”

No, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

He doesn’t understand!

The Joker was  _ here! _

He came  _ here! _

And now he’s come back.

“No! The Joker… he’s…”

“Hey, Babs, it’s okay!” And Dick is there too now. “It’s just the pizza guy!”

She laughs shakily. 

He’s okay. He listened to her.

Dick nods briefly to Jason, who backs away, and Dick takes her wrist before she can worry too much over where he’s going. “He’s just going to get the pizza, Barbara.”

“Dick,” Barbara gasps. “The Joker- he was here- and my dad- my dad-” She trails off, looking helplessly to Dick.

What about her dad? She can’t remember.

She knows she’s panicking.

That nothing is wrong, she’s safe.

She knows it-somewhere deep inside, she knows it- but the trick is getting the message through the thick, fear-induced fog.

“Babs?” Dick’s voice cuts through the fog. “Babs, you with us?” “I… I…” It takes a moment for Barbara to remember where she is, what’s going on, but she nods, swallowing thickly. “Yes.”

Jason’s come back with the pizza; she can smell it from where she’s sitting, but she’s no longer got any desire to help eat it.

“I.. don’t think I’m hungry,” she says, turning away so she doesn’t have to see how disappointed she’s just made both boys. “I just… I think I need to be by myself.”

She backs the chair up, moving it away from the couch, before directing herself down the hall, in the direction of her room.

The tears are already running down her face, and she ignores the crushing feeling of guilt weighing on her chest.

“Barbara…” Dick begins and Barbara’s grip on her chair tightens.

“Just leave me alone for now,” she hisses, “please.”

And she’s thankful when neither one of them makes a move to follow her.

 

Barbara has been in her room for approximately fifteen minutes when the knock sounds on her door.

It isn’t really on her door-she hadn’t bothered to shut it when she went in. On the wall outside her door would be more accurate.

She jerks, startled, and wipes her hair away from her face.

“Babs?” a soft voice calls. “Can I come in?”

It’s Jason.

Barbara hesitates for a moment, before turning.

Jason is hanging back, halfway in the doorway, halfway out.

She wonders if he’s expecting her to snap at him.

Barbara swallows and manages a shaky smile, but she doesn’t speak.

She doesn’t think she could manage the words.

Jason steps in, awkwardly fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

He steps carefully around the boxes, before taking a seat among them, crossing his legs.

“When I was on the street,” he begins slowly. His opening catches Barbara off guard. Jason rarely spoke of his life on the street-even with her. She directs her gaze at him but his eyes are focused on the floor. “A lot of people did bad things to other people.” She notices his phrasing-Jason is normally incredibly blunt, even rude at times-but then, this is a delicate subject for him considering he spent more than half his life on the streets. “It sucked.” He pauses and Barbara gives him time before he goes. “Most people just used it as an excuse to forget about everything, get drunk, get high, or whatever.” There’s disgust in his voice, but also undertones of pain, and she remembers hearing about how his mother went.

She wonders how a mother could do that, choose to a good high over her own child.

“But then there were others who just… moved on.” Jason gives a little shrug. “Became stronger.”

For the first time since his little speech began, Jason makes eye contact. “I think you’re one of those people, Barbara.”

Barbara sucks in a breath, his words stuck in her mind.

He’s one of those people too, but she doubts that that has even occurred to him.

Jason has always had trouble spotting the good inside himself, but he’s been remarkable at spotting the good inside others.

Something wet trickles down her cheek and she realizes that, somewhere along the way, she’s started crying again.

 


	6. Makes You Stronger

Jason’s words stay with Barbara for days afterwards.

He believes in her, believes that she can become stronger from this.

Up till now, that isn’t something Barbara could convince herself to believe.

She slowly pinches the flesh of her leg… hard

There’s no feeling, which is what she was expecting, but she takes a deep breath, willing herself to feel something other than despair.

She can still remember feeling the wind whipping at her hair from high up.

The rush of danger that comes with her old way of life.

The confidence that comes with studying your enemy-and knowing you have a way to beat them.

She has to accept that that’s not her life anymore.

That there’s no miracle or cure to bring back her legs.

But accepting something isn’t the same thing as giving up.

She can’t change what’s happened to her.

But she can become stronger.

And she knows a way to do it.

“You want me to what?” Dick’s eyes practically pop out of his head when Barbara tells him her request.

The two of them are sitting in Wayne Manor’s extensive living room.

“You heard what I said,” Barbara says irritably, crossing her arms.

“I’m not really sure  _ you _ heard what you said.”

“Dick…”

“Just so I know I’ve got this right,” Dick says, slowly, “you want me to train you? With these?”  He holds up the pair of escrima sticks in his hand.

“Yes,” Barbara says, lips tightening.

“Babs,” Dick still doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” she repeats and there’s more vehemence in her voice than she’d intended. “I have to do this, Dick.”

“Barb…” Dick lets the sticks hang by his side. “If you think we think any less of you because…”

“No,” Barbara interrupts him before he can get any further, “I’m not… I’m doing this for me, Dick. I don’t want to be just some… damsel in distress. I can still throw a punch… the Joker didn’t take that away, at least,” she adds bitterly, “but  I want to know I can take care of myself.”

Dick frowns, but then his shoulder slump. “Fine,” he concedes. “We’ll work in the gym, but,” he continues, “we’re taking it easy for the first go. You shouldn’t be straining yourself this soon after everything that’s happened.”

“Fine.” This time, it’s Barbara’s turn to concede. 

“Like this.” Dick shows her how to hold the escrima sticks, closing her fingers around the weapons. It seems simple enough, even though she’s never done more than hold one in her hands before. “And now I’m going to attack you. Or… pretend to attack you.”

“I can handle it, Dick,” Barbara grits out.

“Maybe at one point you could and maybe in the future you will be able to, but right now, you  _ can’t _ ,” Dick says, stressing the last part. “We’re going to be working up to that point.”

That said, he takes a step back, adopting a ready stance. 

Barbara does the same, tensing, waiting for him to strike.

And he does, leaping and twisting in the ar. Barbara lashes out with the escrima sticks, but neither connects, and Dick lands lightly on his feet behind her.

“Show off!”  Barbara protests, glaring.

“Hey! I never said I had to make this easy for you,” Dick says, shrugging, but there’s a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

There’s a moment where neither of them move, and Barbara feels it, bubbling up inside of her.

She laughs.

It feels so  _ good _ to be doing something.

To know that what the Joker has taken away from her isn’t stopping her from doing something.

That she doesn’t have to let what the Joker did stop her. 

After that, they go for about three more rounds, the third one ending with Barbara’s escrima stick pointed at his throat as he lay panting on the ground.

There’s a remnant of the old pain throbbing in her abdomen, but she can’t bring herself to care.

After a second, the feeling of pride that had come with the accomplishment starts to ebb away and she frowns at him. “You let me win,” she accuses, lifting the stick. Somehow, it leaves her feeling bitter. As if she wasn’t capable of achieving victory on her own.

Dick sits up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t?” he asks.

Barbara tilts her head, looking decidedly unimpressed and Dick huffs out a tired and somewhat irritated sigh.

“Babs,  _ helping _ you at this point does not mean pushing you past your limit,” Dick says firmly.

Barbara’s lips tighten, but she doesn’t say a word, because he’s  _ right. _ She knows he is.

So why is she fighting him? Why does she feel the need to make this difficult? Is this somehow going to prove something?  And if so, to who?

Him?   
Or her?

“I know,” she finally says. 

She rests the escrima sticks on her lap and wipes at the sweat that’s formed on her forehead. 

“Look,” Dick says, before the silence stretching between them can become uncomfortable, “why don’t we just continue this tomorrow?”

Tomorrow?

Her muscles are already aching, she notices, now that she’s taken the time to dwell on it.

Yes, tomorrow would be nice.

She begins to wheel her chair out, feeling Dick’s presence beside her.

“I’m sorry,” she tells him and is surprised when Dick stops short.

“For what?” he asks, furrowing his brows at her.

“For this, for everything.” Barbara gestures vaguely with her hand. The next words are harder for her to say. “For taking my frustration out you. You don’t deserve it. You’ve been trying your best.”

“Barbara, if you think I’m holding any of this against you…” Dick begins and Barbara sighs.

“I know, Dick,” she says before he can continue. Her eyes land on the old grandfather clock.

“He came to visit me, you know,” she says, offhandedly.

Dick blinks, not making the connection. “What?”

“Bruce,” Barbara clarifies. “When I was in the hospital. Before you came back, he visited me.”

She pauses, letting that sink in, before continuing. “I… know things have been rough between the two of you.” Dick stiffens the tiniest bit. “But, when he was there, you didn’t see him.” Her fingers grip the armrests of her wheelchair. “You didn’t see how… haunted he was. He blames himself. For all of it.”

Dick doesn’t say anything and Barbara rubs her hands over her face. “I’m sorry. I should have known it was too early to bring him up.”

“No.” Dick shakes his head, an uncomfortable smile that doesn’t fit him right in place. “No, you’re right.” He swallows. “I need to get over myself. Especially now…”

_ If Bruce is ready. _

He doesn’t speak the words, but Barbara knows he’s thinking them.

“Give him time, Dick,” Barbara says softly. “It’s hard for him to admit when he’s wrong. And he was wrong when he chased you away.”

Dick is silent for a long moment, directing his gaze at the old clock. “I don’t think he was entirely in the wrong…” he begins. “Or, well,” he corrects himself, “I wasn’t entirely in the right.”

Barbara faces him. “So make things right.”

The inevitable has happened.

He’s struck.

It’s the mall.

Bombs. Explosions. Casualties.

Those words are repeated over and over again.

He needs to get over there  _ now. _

Before even more can become a victim to this madman.

Before more lives can be lost, more families torn apart, irreparably damaged.

“Master Bruce…”

“Not  _ now, _ Alfred,” Bruce growls, pulling the cowl into place.

Alfred sighs. “Master Bruce, to go rushing in like this, surely that is inviting disaster.”

“Innocent people are dying, Alfred. What do you expect me to do?”

“Maybe think about taking some backup with you!”

Both men turn to find Dick standing at the bottom of the Cave stairs, already in full Nightwing gear.

Bruce grits his teeth.

“I already told you...” he begins.

He’s already told Dick and Jason both. 

They are not helping on this case.

Bruce knows how lucky Barbara is to be alive right now.

How close the gunshot came to killing her.

“I know what you told me.” Dick waves him off. “But you can’t go in there alone. You’re not invincible. None of us are.”

“Which is why I’m not taking you along.”

Dick runs a hand through his hair, pinching his lips together. “Look, Bruce,” he says, somewhat awkwardly, “I know you’re thinking you can’t lose us, but… did it ever occur to you how any of us would feel if we lost you?”

That stops Bruce up short and Dick takes full advantage of the moment.

“Bruce. Let me come,” he says, voice pleading but firm. “Trust me. Please.”

Bruce glowers at him, beneath the safety of the cowl.

If Dick comes, he’ll be put at risk. 

He won’t allow any of them to be put at risk.

He  _ can’t. _

Dick doesn’t move an inch, doesn’t drop his gaze, meeting Bruce’s with a determination rivaling that of the Batman.

... _ if we lost you. _

Dick’s words run through his mind once more.

His fist clenches. 

“Get in the car.”

Dick grins and then flicks his thumb in the direction of the cars. “Still got my bike, remember?”   
Bruce grunts, but doesn’t respond, and Dick darts off, still grinning.

He watches the boy, before turning to Alfred. 

“I want Jason home from school,” is all he says.

With the Joker terrorizing the city, he at the very least wants to know that Jason is safe and accounted for.

 

“Miss Gordon, I wasn’t aware that you were still here,” Alfred says, as he emerges from the Cave, allowing the grandfather clock to swing shut behind him with a gentle “click.” 

Barbara is still in the living room, observing the Wayne Family portrait that hangs above the fireplace.

“Wasn’t sure how things would go between Dick and Bruce,” Barbara answers, wheeling her chair around to face him.

That dreadful chair.

An aching sadness settles deep in his chest.

Too see such a bright young woman as Miss Gordon crippled as the result of such a barbarous attack!

Will the atrocities perpetrated by this one man never end?

“He didn’t come back, so I came down,” she continues. Her brows draw together as if she noticed Alfred staring and knows what it is he’s thinking of.

Always the perceptive one.

He clears his throat, but Barbara’s gaze is now behind him, taking in the absence of two certain somebodies. “Where are they, Alfred? What came up?” she asks. 

And Alfred is faced with a dilemma.

Unlike Master Bruce, he does not take to lying in order to “protect” his loved ones, yet informing her that the very madman who took her legs is once again letting loose a reign of terror does not seem to be the best course of action to take.

“Alfred?” Barbara is still waiting for an answer.

He can’t do it.

He can’t lie to her.

“An incident at the mall, Miss Gordon.” He closes his eyes. Heaven help him. 

“Alfred,” Barbara prompts him, but he can hear the apprehension lingering just beneath the surface.

“It’s the Joker, Miss Gordon.”

There’s a soft intake of breath and Barbara’s face hardens. 

When she doesn’t speak, Alfred takes it upon himself to continue, “Master Jason is still at school currently. Perhaps you’d like to accompany me?” 

Barbara shakes her head. “I’ll stay,” she says. “I’m not leaving until they come back.”

Alfred hadn’t expected any less of her. 

“In light of such a revelation,” he continues, “are you sure that you would rather be left alone? The company of those who love you may prove to be better company than one’s thoughts at such a time as this.”

“I’ll be fine, Alfred,” Barbara says, shaking her head. “Go get Jason. Besides, I think my dad will handle things easier if he knows I’m here safe.”

Alfred sighs, but collecting Jason is the current priority.

“Alfred,” Barbara repeats gently, “go get Jason. I can handle myself.”

Alfred swallows past the sudden thickness in his throat and gives her a watery smile. “Of course you can, Barbara,” he says.

And then he is gone.

 

The chair doesn’t prevent Barbara from gaining access to the Cave, seeing as Bruce had installed several elevators throughout the house.

Bruce might not be happy about her entering the Cave in his absence, but it’s something they’ve all done before.

Multiple times.

And yet the security has always let them in. 

He’ll get over it.

There’s a joke in there somewhere, but Barbara doesn’t have the heart to find it.

It’s always felt somewhat… empty down there- a feeling that’s only enhanced when she’s the only one present.

The computer sits there, unattended, and she stops in front of it, hitting several commands. It’s something Bruce has trusted her with over the years: access to the so-called Bat Computer and it’s something she’s glad she can take advantage of today.

She was there for the emotional fallout after Dick’s departure. She’d been there to watch his back during the distracted nights that followed… and he could insist that it hadn’t been necessary all he liked.

Even like this, Barbara isn’t about to let them go off on their own.

And if the Joker-her stomach flip flops, her throat constricting, and she wishes at the very least Alfred could be here so she wouldn’t have to be alone.

Here, in the dimly lit expanse of the cave, with no one but herself, it’s too easy to imagine the grin that could be hiding in the shadows, waiting with a gun and a bullet for her to let it in.

She swallows, squeezing her eyes shut.

The Joker isn’t here. 

He’s out in the city, hurting innocent people.

People who never chose to be a part of this life the way she did.

Being Batgirl… she  _ knew  _ the risks when she decided to live the life of a Gotham vigilante.

She made the choice and now she’s suffering the consequences.

The Joker isn’t here, but she  _ is. _

And Bruce and Dick are both out there.

Barbara remembers the look in Bruce’s eyes at the hospital.

He was haunted, haunted by failure and guilt.

She thinks back to those nights after Dick left and frowns.

Being Batman doesn’t make him invincible.

_ But he’s not alone _ , she reminds herself.  _ Dick worked with Bruce for years. They know how to watch out for each other.  _

Barbara hesitates… and then taps a few more commands, accessing the police and news reports.

She feels like a liability… a weakness, and what little she can do, she will, to ensure they aren’t going in blind.

Most of the reports are centered around the mall. There’s even video footage, but she passes over it, ignoring the way her heart thuds in her chest… and immediately berates herself for it.

If one of them contains something important…

Her finger hovers above the command, but before she does, something else catches her eyes, and she inhales sharply. 

“Batman,” not caring about whatever fallout there might be to accessing the computer without permission, Barbara opens the communications network, “are you at the mall?”

“What are you doing?” Batman’s harsh voice sounds over the comms and she winces.

Well, there’s nothing that said Bruce had to take this graciously.

Still, she frowns at his non-answer.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she says. She rolls her eyes before answering his.“I’m making sure you aren’t heading in blind.”

Nightwing chooses that moment to enter what has yet to be determined as a conversation. “Just got there, BG. What’s up?”

The way he phrased it, it sounds so normal, so like old times, and her throat constricts.

Barbara licks her lips.  “There’s…” she begins. “It’s not just the mall. Several bombs just went off at the factories downtown…” she scrolls through the reports, “and it looks like they might need some backup. It’s… close to Narrows. I don’t know how much personnel they’re going to waste sending down there. And there could be people who need help.”

“I’ll go,”  Dick says quickly.

“Do it,” Batman tells him immediately. “I’ll handle this.”

Barbara scans her eyes over everything else. “There’s something else.” Batman doesn’t say anything, waiting for her to finish, and so Barbara presses forward. 

“It’s a message,” she breathes suddenly. “For you supposedly. It’s being broadcasted. On repeat presumably if it’s already online. And it’s…” a lump forms in her throat, “...it’s the Joker.… Oh…”

_ Shark’s grin. Pale face. Flash of fire. Pain. _

Barbara sucks in a breath, unable to help the slight tremble in her voice.

_ Calm down.  _ Calm  _ down! _

Barbara will  _ not  _ be losing her cool over the communications network with Bruce.

She won’t.

“Are you still there?” 

“I’m here.” Barbara exhales, willing her heart to slow down. 

Because  _ everything is fine. _

There’s a grunt and Barbara blinks. “Are you… are you in a fight?” Immediately, she wants to take it back… and give herself a good kick for asking the obvious.

“Joker venom has affected the civilians here.” Another grunt, but this one doesn’t come from him. “Keep talking.

“I’m transferring the video file to the receiver in your cowl.”

She’s already begun the process when he speaks again. “You don’t have to. I’m seeing it now.”

Chaos.

Wherever the Clown Prince of Crime goes, he brings chaos with him.

Chaos and pain.

The bombs the Joker set off were laced with Joker venom and the shoppers who survived the blasts are already coming at him, grins wide and eyes wild.

Their laughter is a rising crescendo. 

_ How many more innocents?  _ he thinks as the first man reaches him. He ducks the man’s punch easily, grabbing his arm and slamming his head against the wall.

He’s down for the count, without much damage done.

Barbara’s voice is still in his ear.

“..it’s… it’s the Joker.”

He growls. 

Of course the Joker would be leaving a message.

This is all some sick game to him.

A sick game that plays with the lives of those he’s sworn to protect.

A woman flings herself at him, her pained laughter ringing in his ears.

Her hands reach out to grab him, even as a second man launches himself at him from behind.

Batman grunts, hating that he has to this.

They’re civilians, innocents. 

They have no part in this.

He knocks the man down easily and turns his attention to the woman.

He doesn’t want to have to hurt these people.

“Are you- are you in a fight?”

He ignores the question and uses a nerve pinch to subdue the woman.

“Joker venom has affected the civilians here,” he tells her and takes down a man who tries to fling himself at him. “Keep talking.”

Barbara clears her throat-she still sounds shaken after mentioning the message.

He hopes she hasn’t opened it.

She doesn’t need to see the man, doesn’t need the reminder of what he did to her.

He leaps over the heads of two others, slamming their heads together and letting them drop to the floor.

“I’m transferring the video file to the receiver in your cowl,” Barbara says.

“HELLOOOOOO, BATSY!” The Joker’s voice booms from several speakers, his face appearing on the television screens.

“You don’t have to,” he tells Barbara through clenched teeth. “I’m seeing it now.”

Batman doesn’t catch Barbara’s response. He’s not even sure she makes one.

“Do you like my surprise, Batsy?” Joker asks, leaning forward into the camera. He giggles, completely caught up in his own madness. “I made it just for you. Your city’s going crazy, Batsy. These people you claim to protect… why, they’re going  _ mad! _ And there isn’t a thing you can do to stop it.” He wags his finger, tilts his head back and cackles wildly before the video cuts out.

Batman balls his fists. “Show yourself, Joker!” he demands. 

The screens remain blank.

He doubts the Joker is even here.

_ It’s all a damn game. _

And that’s when he hears the ticking.


	7. Taking Matters

At the very least, the factory bombs struck in an area away from the majority of the populace. 

Perhaps the one good thing amongst this hell of the Joker’s making.

It’s not something that makes much sense, considering the lack of inhabitants. (But when has the Joker ever made sense?)

If it means less civilian casualties, however… Dick isn’t going to complain.

“You were right, BG,” he says grimly, observing the complete and utter lack of squad cars. “The GCPD didn’t waste anybody here.”

“Considering the hundreds of people who spend their Saturdays at the mall, I’m not surprised,” Barbara answers. He can almost hear her frown. “They’re stretched pretty thin as it is. Compared to the mall, these explosions would be considered minor.”

“Someone still called it in,” Dick says. “Meaning there could be people hurt. I’m going in.”

“I know,” Barbara says. There’s a moment of silence. “Just be careful.”

Dick takes a breath when he enters.

Surprisingly, the machinery is mostly intact, aside from that which was closest to the explosion.

Obviously, the explosions weren’t meant to cause structural damage, but if there were people inside…

His eyes catch sight of something-several somethings actually-lying about on the floor.

Something thick rises in his throat.

He’s seen bodies before. This is nothing new to him.

But it’s not something someone should ever get used to.

Gently, he turns over the first body he comes to.

It’s a man, middle-aged, somewhere around thirty-five he’d say if he had to hazard a guess.

And the one thing that’s clear? No explosion killed this man.

The man’s lips are stretched wide in the parody of a grin, face a pasty white color and eyes wide and unseeing.

Dick feels sick.

The Joker is an animal. A monster.

Dick clenches his fists.

This man-whoever he is- _ was _ , Dick corrects himself-he didn’t deserve this.

Slowly, he reaches out with his gloved fingers, shutting the man’s eyes.

He deserves that much respect.

As he pulls his hand back, he notices the gun partially hidden by the man’s jacket.

This wasn’t a factory worker.

Was the Joker killing his own men or was this a local mobster unlucky enough to become a target? “Dick?” Barbara’s voice, hesitant and unsure, reaches his ears.

“They’re dead, BG,” he admits. “All of them.”

“The workers…?”

“Not workers…” Dick says. “Goons. It’s unclear if they were working for the Joker or not.”

He takes another look at the grotesque smile.

“Bruce is dealing with explosives at the mall,” Barbara continues. “There may be some planted at the factory.”

A shot rings out and, before Dick has a chance to react, a fierce, blinding, unforgiving pain rips through his shoulder.

Dick cries out, collapsing to his knees, his instinctively going to his shoulder.

He can hear Barbara shouting in his ear, asking him what’s happened, but he can’t answer.

She’s worried about him.

More than that, she’s panicking.

Somewhere up above him, an applause starts.

“Bravo, Bird Boy,” the voice up above him crows and Dick’s eyes automatically travel up to the multiple catwalks stretched across the building.

The Joker casually strolls to the center of the catwalk. His swagger ends when he leans over the railing. “Or should I really call you that?” he muses, tapping his chin. “After all, you’re all grown up now and in your big boy pants. How’s it feel to have a new kid running around in your old getup anyways? He as fun to play with as you?”

Dick growls through the pain. “You stay away from him!”

Joker laughs. “Don’t be jealous, Bird Boy. I’ll still have plenty of time for you!”

Dick lunges forward, but his movements are only half coordinated. He clutches his wounded shoulder, a pained cry escaping his lips as the sudden movement jars it. 

He hears footsteps behind him, and then something cracks across the back of his skull.

His world goes black.

 

“Nightwing? Dick?” Barbara’s voice is a whisper, fingers hovering over the keyboard. She doesn’t get a response.

The red dot at his location blinks once and disappears.

The tracker is out.

What if… Her mind is instantly filling in the blank, imagining the worst.

_ No. Please no. _

“Batman?” Barbara taps into Batman’s cowl. “Nightwing’s in trouble. His tracker is offline. It..” She tries to make sense of what she’s heard. Of what just happened. “I think it was a trap.”

  
  


The bomb is intricate. And created by the Joker.

Both factors that mean that defusing it is a task that must be handled with care.

“Batman?” Barbara’s voice crackles through his Comm. “Nightwing’s in trouble.”

His hands freeze. 

“I think it was a trap.”

_ A trap. _

Pushing down the momentary panic, Batman says, “There was no possible way the Joker knew Nightwing would be there,” he says.

“It wasn’t necessarily meant for Dick,” Barbara says. Her voice is calm no, no sign of the tremor from earlier. She’s composed herself. “It could have been intended for either one of you. Or… Jason.  Who knows? That’s not what matters. What matters is that Nightwing,” Nightwing- _ Dick _ , his son, the one he had turned his back on, chased away from Gotham, “could be in danger.”

Almost unconsciously, his teeth grind together.

The Joker made a mistake going after his family.

“The bomb,” he tells her. He knows what he has to do, even if it kills him. “If I don’t defuse it, it will take out the entire building and kill anyone and everyone in the vicinity.”

“But Dick…” Barbara’s voice is weak, and he doesn’t blame her.

“Can take care of himself,” Batman answers roughly, his tone masking the fear he felt. 

Dick is far from helpless. He’s been taking care of himself for a long time.

But this is the Joker.

And if Joker has Dick, that means he doesn’t have long.

“What’s going on?”

Barbara jumps at the voice behind her and turns her head to see Jason has come up behind her.

He’s wearing his Robin uniform, something that brings a frown to Barbara’s face, despite the situation they’re in.

Jason doesn’t notice. His eyes are glued to the computer monitor in front of her.

“What’s going on?” he asks again, not one to be deterred. “What happened to Nightwing?”

“Jason…” Barbara says, wondering how much she’s supposed to tell him, wondering how much he already knows. She finally just asks outright, “What do you know?”

Jason narrows his eyes. “That Nightwing’s in trouble. I want to help.”

“You can’t,” Barbara tells him. She almost wishes he could. 

But she will never endanger Jason.

“Let Bruce handle it.”

“Bruce is dealing with a bomb! He’s not going to get there in time!”

“And if I send you off after him, you’ll end up in the same situation.”

“If I don’t go, he’ll die. I can handle myself,” Jason snaps and Barbara flinches slightly. 

“We don’t know that,” she whispers, even though she knows that, more than likely, Jason’s right. Even if she’s merely grasping at straws. 

Because Dick can take care of himself, but this is the  _ Joker.  _ And only the Batman really has faced the Joker alone. If you didn’t count... she stops the rest of the thought from playing out in her head. She doesn’t want to dwell on what happened to her. Not now. “I can’t let you go, Jason.”

“I’ve fought the Joker before, Barbara! I can do this!” Jason protests and Barbara sets her jaw.

“With  _ Bruce _ ,” she corrects. “And right  _ now _ is really not the time or place to be having this conversation, Jason!”

Something shifts in Jason’s face,maybe reading the distress in her voice, and Barbara shakes her head. “We’re all upset. I know that, but right now, the last thing we need is you endangering yourself.”

Jason looks sufficiently chastened, so Barbara returns her attention the computer.

After a moment, Jason asks, “What about his tracker? Does he have one?”

“It’s not on,” Barbara says grimly.  _ Damn it, Dick. _

“What are you looking for?”

“Traffic cams.” Barbara leans forward. “Security footage. Anything really that will give us a clue to where Joker might have Dick, because he’s not going to stay there.”

Saying the words aloud make her feel sick. 

_ The Joker has Dick. _

“And how long will that take?” Jason asks, his hand on the back of her chair.

‘A while,” Barbara answers. “It’s not like how they show in the movies where you type a few commands and you’re in. It takes time. Even with traffics coms. And I’m not going to find something right away.”

It’s not like her to ramble, but talking has almost become something of a lifeline. If her mind is focused on the project at hand, she can keep it from wandering. From exploring the morbid possibilities her mind can come up with. 

“But you’ve done it before.”

“Knowing how to do something and having done it before don’t equal being a pro at it,” Barbara says.

And her eyes widen. “His tracker just went back online.”

“What?” Jason leans over her. “Does this mean it was only a glitch?”

“If it were,” Barbara swallows, “then I think his tracker would have remained in the same position.”

She tries the Comm. “Nightwing? Nightwing, are you there?”

Nothing. Only static.

She shares a glance with Jason, before opening a communications link with Bruce.

“Batman…” she says, “Dick’s tracker is back online.” She waits till she hears Batman’s affirmative. “The corner of West and Pinewallis. The old theater.” Her throat feels thick, swollen. Everything about this is  _ wrong. _ “It looks like Joker is looking to put on a show.”

Jason doesn’t answer and, for the moment, she thinks nothing of it so absorbed is she in her search.

And then something begins to feel wrong. He shouldn’t be this quiet. He should have questioned her.

“Jason?” Finally, she glances behind her.

He’s gone.

“Jason!”

She had been speaking for about twelve seconds. Maybe. And if she had to make a guestimate, she’d say her attention had been off of him for a minute at the most.

That was plenty of time for a fledgeling bat to make his getaway.

She knows Bruce has a way to shut down the cave. To prevent anyone from leaving in the event of an emergency.

It’s not like he taught her how to use it (and it isn’t like  _ he’s _ ever had to use it-that she knows of, though, knowing him, it wouldn’t surprise her if she ever learned of an occasion), but she’s spent enough time in the cave with him after missions to pick a few things up.

Maybe there’s a chance she can stop this mess before it gets any further.

An engine roars to life before she can finish.

Jason’s taken the bike-the Robin cycle as they’ve taken to calling it.

Barbara’s blood runs cold. She’s failed, even, to stop Jason from leaving, from going on what’s sure to become a suicide mission.

“Jason?” 

She tries to contact him via the Comm, but her only response is static.

He’s left it on, deliberately if she had to wager, because Jason is smart. He wouldn’t leave his Comm off by mistake.

And the fact that he deliberately turned it off is bad news indeed.

If he went after the Joker,as Barbara suspects- _ knows _ \- he intends to, then she might very well end up losing two brothers tonight.

It doesn’t that Bruce will be there soon.

In a city like Gotham, with madman like the Joker, that doesn’t mean anything. Heroes are capable of being too late, which is something she knows all too well.

Jason may very well end up in the Joker’s hands regardless.

 


	8. Into Your Own Hands

Dick regains consciousness slowly. The first thing he’s aware of is a throbbing, almost sluggish and dull, pain in his shoulder.

_ Bullet wound, _ he remembers. He was shot. He can remember that much.

It seems like it should hurt a lot more.

He’s on his knees, that’s the second thing he’s aware of, and his foot has fallen asleep.

Ordinarily, that would be considered of secondary importance to a gunshot wound, but the pins and needles feeling has become like a horde of ants marching across his flesh.

He shifts, intending to stretch his feet out before him, and cries out as pain rips through his shoulder.

Wider awake now, the pain having given him a shock, he realizes both wrists have been bound behind to a post with what feels like a length of train.

_ Out of the frying pan and into the fire. _

_ You really stuck your foot in it this time, Grayson. _

He cracks his eyes open, slowly, one at a time. It’s dark, wherever he is.

 It’s dark, but it’s not dark enough so he can’t see.

There’s a grayish, pale light filtering in through several windows. Cheap, white plastic has been nailed over the empty panes, blocking out most of the sun, but it still manages to find it’s way inside.

Piles of boxes are stacked around him, layered in what must be at least five years’ worth of dust.

A dilapidated, moth-eaten curtain, with enough color left that he can tell it had once been a brilliant red, reaches from floor to ceiling and is stretched halfway across the length of the room.

Theater.

If he cranes his neck, he can look past the curtains and see the stage, the rows of seats.

He’s in an old theater, although which one it is, he has no idea.

There are at least five old and abandoned theaters scattered across Gotham.

And those are only the ones he’s been to, for reasons regarding one case or another.

Dick moans, a sound that’s low and pain-filled, and wonders how long he’s been out and when Bruce is going to get there, or if he even knows yet.

_ Barbara told him. _

There’s no way she wouldn’t.

More importantly, though, Dick wonders where the Joker is. Why he hasn’t shown himself yet.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he’s able to make out a glimpse of what looks like a white bandage. Angling his head, he can see that it is, indeed, a bandage, sloppily applied and stained with blood, but obviously someone didn’t want him bleeding out.

It doesn’t take a genius to know who that someone is.

And it wasn’t out of any generous feelings that he’s being allowed to live.

Dick hangs his head, sagging against the chains, which, currently, are the only things keeping him from sliding all the way to the floor.

“Now, now, Bird Boy, none of that! I wouldn’t want you getting too comfortable here. After all, I’m afraid the guest of honor hasn’t showed up yet.”

The Joker appears, hands clasped behind his back, as casual as if he were just taking a stroll down the street, before stopping directly before him.

Dick glares up at him. “What,” his voice is hoarse, “are you talking about?”

Joker squats down before him, gripping his jaw and forcing him to make eye contact. “I made the Bat a promise,” he says. “One that I intend to keep.”

He releases him and stands, laughing as if he’d just heard the funniest joke in the world.

“Wait, boss!” Joker frowns and directs his attention towards several men in clown makeup hanging back in the shadows. Dick hadn’t noticed them before. 

The one speaking wears a blue wig and his features are indiscernible beneath the layers of makeup caked on his face. He hesitates and then steps forward boldly. “Just what are you playing at here? I thought the whole idea was we  _ wouldn’t  _ be bringing the Bat down on our head.”

Dick has to give him credit. It takes guts, standing up to the Joker.

The grin returns to the Joker’s face and he strolls over to the man. The man falters slightly, but holds his ground, raising his chin a tiny bit.

“Oh, Maurice,” Joker croons, reaching out and brushing his fingers down the side of the man’s face. Maurice shudders, but doesn’t move.

Dick frowns.

“I’m disappointed in you. This is Gotham city. And  _ everything  _ you do will bring the Batman down on our head.”

There’s a  _ pfft _ sound, and, suddenly, the man collapses, eyes wide open, a shocked expression frozen on his face.

It’s happened so fast, Dick didn’t even get a chance to see the Joker move.

A patch of red appears on the dead man’s chest, slowly blooming outward.

The Joker turns back towards Dick, tucking a gun back into his suit, and smiles again.

“Shall we get ready for the party?”

 

A prickle of guilt nags quietly at the back of Jason’s conscience as he drives.

Barbara is likely worried out of her mind, but he knows she’ll keep her cool… at least until he gets back, because then she’ll say things like,  _ “What the hell were you thinking?” _ and,  _ “you could’ve been killed!” _

But her anger won’t last long, because she’s never stayed angry for very long.

Not with him.

Bruce, on the other hand, will likely hit the roof.

Maybe he’ll even fire him,take Robin away from him.

He almost falters at that, Robin is his life now, but keeps going.

The cave has an opening that allows their vehicles to come and go a safe distance away from the city to keep from prying eyes, but it’s only a five minute drive at his current pace, and the Gotham lights are already bathing the streets.

Two minutes if he dares pushing the bike faster.

Maybe he should.

Nightwing probably doesn’t have time to spare.

Why is he risking so much for Dick Grayson? he wonders. The original, the one he hears all good things about, the one he could only dream of living up to.

Because no matter how hard he tries,  _ Jason will never be Dick Grayson. _

It isn’t like he owes him anything.

By all rights, he should hate him.

And besides, if the guy’s as good as everyone says… maybe he’ll have himself free long before Jason could ever dream of finding him.

He shouldn’t even be  _ in _ this mess.

So maybe he doesn’t know what he’s doing out here, but he sure as hell isn’t turning back.

And he knows Dick means something to Barbara.

Even before Dick returned.

He’s doing this for Barbara, he tells himself. Because he doesn’t want to see her hurt again. And if Dick dies, she’ll hurt.

And Bruce will too, although he won’t show it.

He doesn’t ever show it, but it’s there.

And Alfred… it will hurt Alfred too.

Maybe more than it will hurt anyone else.

But he chooses to ignore that, because somehow, facing the fact that his predecessor, even after leaving, after  _ abandoning _ them, still meant more to everyone than he ever would  _ hurt. _

Hurt almost like it had when his mom died, when his mother had chosen drugs over her own son, because it seemed no matter  _ who _ it was in his life, he was always second best to someone or something.

_ Shut it! _ Jason snarls to himself. He has no use for self-pity and neither does anyone else.

He wonders if maybe it  _ wasn’t  _ such a good idea to leave, but he’s a member of their team too. He’s  _ Robin _ . And Robin helps Batman. He doesn’t sit on the sidelines.

The corner of West and Pinewallis.

Calling Barbara is out of the question too. She’d never tell him anything useful and if he  _ did _ try to use his Comm to get in touch, she’d just end up chewing his ass out.

That’s the problem with Barbara. She’s a big sister in every way, and that includes chewing out his ass when she feels it needs a good chewing out.

What he does know, however, is that Nightwing was down at the factories.

He can start there.

Jason makes his decision and veers left, taking the ramp leading downtown.

Jason is gone.

He’s left the cave.

And as angry- as  _ furious _ \- as he is, Bruce feels the tiny worm of fear slithering through the tiny cracks in the defensive armor that being the Batman provides.

The Joker has made him a promise, the fulfillment of which began when he invaded the apartment of Barbara Gordon and put a bullet through her spine.

It’s one that he won’t let end with Dick Grayson or Jason Todd.

He almost regrets sending Dick to the factory… perhaps he should have been the one to go in his place.

The Batman is supposed to be one step of his enemies.

Why didn’t he see? Why didn’t he  _ realize _ that the Joker had worked it this way deliberately? In a bid to keep Dick safe, Bruce had sent Dick to where he assumed the lesser danger lay and, in doing so, delivered him right to the Joker.

He’s angry-furious-yes, but he also recognizes that those feelings will do nothing for Dick nor Jason.

He needs to remain calm, detached from the situation, look at the evidence and see where it leads him.

He can’t let himself dwell on the fact that this is family at stake.

_ West and Pinewallis. _

He has a location.

He just prays he gets there in time.

 


	9. The Madman's Lair

Jason is almost surprised to see that he’s arrived at the theater first, despite knowing the closer proximity of his origin point. 

There’s a single guard posted just outside the theater doors, caught in the faint glow cast by a fading lamp post. 

Jason frowns. He’d have thought there would be more…

He watches the man for a time, just to ensure that no one else is going to be joining him outside.

However, the man, it seems, is on his own. It’s not hard for Jason to take him out, swiftly and silently.

Once done, he glances up. No one seems to even be in the area. 

The theater is dead quiet.

Isn’t the Joker supposed to be big on the theatrics? He frowns. 

Something doesn’t sit right with him, but he ignores his initial gut feeling… something he will surely regret later.

The door is out of the question for an entrance; he doesn’t even need to think that one through.

That means the windows. 

Most of them are boarded up, but that isn’t a problem.  

He can slip inside… hopefully without anyone noticing.

Getting inside, it turns out, is the easy part.

He pauses, giving his eyesight time to adjust to the dim lighting. 

When it does, he can just make out a figure, unmoving, bound to one of the support pillars it looks like. 

It has to be Dick.

Jason crawls inside. 

There’s no sign of the Joker, no sign of anyone at all. It all screams  _ wrong _ , but Dick is  _ right there. _

He’s so close and, judging by the stained bandage wrapped around his shoulder, he’s hurt.

Jason can’t ignore that.

“Nightwing!” he calls in a loud whisper

When there’s no answer, or at least not one he can hear, he feels a jolt of panic.

“Nightwing!” A little louder this time and, throwing caution to the wind, he scrambles forwards until he’s at the older boy’s side.

The bandage, he can see, is done sloppily, no real thought or care put into the task, and he reaches his fingers out to brush Dick’s uninjured shoulder. The wound, he knows, has to be looked at; he doubts the Joker would bother doing a proper job, but that can wait until after he’s gotten him out of this place.

“Nightwing?” he says again, hoping to get his attention.

Dick’s eyes flutter open and it takes a moment before they finally are able to focus on Jason’s face.

He blinks once, obviously confused. “R-rob…?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Jason says. “I’m gonna get you out of here. Batman should be on his way too, okay?”

Dick shakes his head, looking more lucid as more time passes. “No, you can’t be here!”

Jason hesitates, before grabbing his shoulder as firmly as he dares. “I know, but, listen, I’m going to get you out of here.”

He starts to move around behind him.

“Behind you!”

Jason jerks at Dick’s panicked cry.and catches a glimpse of something swinging towards his head.

He tries to twist out of the way, but pain explodes in his shoulder when the heavy bar crashes into him.

Jason cries out, tumbling backwards. He lands hard and, with a groan, uses his arms to try and prop himself up.

There’s a clatter as the Joker tosses aside the length of broken pipe and strolls towards him. He claps his hands slowly, the sound muffled by the purple gloves he wears on his hands.

“So Bird Boy number two shows up!” He grins gleefully. “I was wondering when Bats would let me meet you! He’s been hiding you. Didn’t his mother ever teach him to share?”

“Stay away from him!” Dick’s voice is weaker than it should be, but still vehement.

Jason clenches his teeth, ignoring the throbbing in his shoulder. His arm is going to bruise and he may not be able to use it in this fight, but he won’t go down without a fight.

He climbs to his feet, only slightly unsteady, still recovering from the shock that came with the blow to his shoulder.

He’s lucky he didn’t take it to the head, he realizes. If he had taken that hit, he wouldn’t even be conscious. The fight would have ended before it had even had a chance to begin.

“Go to hell, freak,” Jason spits, anger coloring his words.

The Joker tsks, shaking his head. “Such language. Does your mother know you speak that way?”

Jason’s fingers slide to his belt automatically. His fingers close around two Batarangs. If he can keep the Joker talking, let it serve as a distraction, then maybe he can take him out.

_ No, there is no “maybe.” _

He has to do it.

What was it that that Star Wars character always said?

There is no try, there is only do?

Yeah, that.

And then there’s movement in his peripheral vision. Jason jumps back as a clown-faced thug lunges at the place he had been only a few minutes earlier, arms closing around nothing but air.

His cheeks burn as he realizes  _ he’d  _ been the one distracted.

The thug, realizing his prey is no longer where it was supposed to be, makes an attempt to compensate, switching direction.

Jason doesn’t give him a chance to try again. Swinging his fist upwards, he connects solidly with the man’s jaw.

The man grunts, his head snapping back, and he stumbles a few steps backwards.

The Joker lets out a loud whoop, thrilled by the violence taking place. “‘Bravo, Boy Blunder!” he cheers. “Bravo! I  _ do _ so love a good bout of mindless violence, don’t you?”

Jason snarls, bringing his arm down on the man’s neck and taking him out of the fight.

Someone tackles him around the knees and he goes down with a cry, bashing his chin on the floor.

Jason’s vision goes white and there’s a ringing in his ear that refuses to go away.

His chin is throbbing, his jaw aches… he wonders if he might have chipped a tooth, but he doesn’t have time for any of that right now.

The man goes for his arms, seeking to pin them to his sides, immobilize him, and Jason bucks underneath him, attempting to dislodge him.

The thug curses, but his weight doesn’t leave Jason’s back, and he makes a move for Jason’s arms again.

Jason snaps his head back, connecting solidly with the man’s nose.

There’s a howl of pain and the hands are removed from his shoulders, presumably as the man clutches at his surely broken nose.

A fist buries itself in his hair, shoving his head down to the floor. He barely has time to turn his head, avoiding getting his nose smashed into the floor beneath them.

Even still, the blow has little black spots dancing in front of his eyes.

He grunts, twisting once more, but the hand stays buried in his hair. He can’t get him off of him.

A pair of purple clad knees appear before his eyes. Something cold, hard and unmistakable taps against his forehead.

He stills.

“Now,” the Joker says gleefully. He presses the barrel of the gun against Jason’s forehead, “where is Batman?”

 


	10. Wake Me Up

“No!”

 He can barely hear it himself, so it’s no surprise that neither the Joker or his hired goon hear him.

The gun is pressed up against Jason’s forehead. His finger is curled around the trigger.

Dick strains harder against the chains. “No!” 

The kid is only fourteen.

Too young to be exposed to this kind of Gotham violence.

He doesn’t know what Bruce was thinking, letting him into the action like this. He doubts Bruce would have let the boy come here alone, but if Robin’s here, then where the hell is Batman? Dick knows that Batman surely can’t be far behind-he never is-but, soon, it won’t matter if Batman is an hour away or only a few minutes.

They have only  _ seconds. _

The Joker is going to blow his brains out, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

He jerks uselessly at the chains around his wrists. All he succeeds in doing is sending pain streaking from his shoulder through the rest of his body.

His complete and utter helplessness hits him then and there.

“Joker,” he says, and maybe it goes to show just how helpless he is, because he would never resort to reasoning with a madman. Maybe this makes him mad himself, “if you hurt him,” his voice is low, wavering, “then there’s nothing you can do that will stop him.”

There’s nothing he can do.

There’s absolutely  _ nothing  _ he can do to stop this.

“Ooh, Bird Boy number one, you disappoint.” The Joker directs his earsplitting grin at Dick. “We both know the Bat doesn’t have the guts to do what it takes.”

He presses the gun harder against Jason’s forehead.

The safety clicks.

But the gun doesn’t go off.

The Joker holds it against his forehead for several seconds longer, before removing it, grinning all the while.

Dick doesn’t know if the Joker is toying with them, or if he never intended to shoot Jason in the first place.

All he knows is that the gun is no longer against the boy’s forehead.

Then the gun goes off. Dick flinches, mouth gaping in horror, because no.  _ Nononono. _

That can’t have just happened.

His eyes are squeezed tight, but that doesn’t stop the gorey images from flying through his imagination.

Dick doesn’t want to see that. Doesn’t want to see how  _ pointless _ it was. A pointless loss of life.

And for what reason?

Is there ever a reason? He takes a shuddering breath, and he realizes he can’t hide forever.

Slowly, he opens his eyes, dreading what he’s about to see with every fiber of his being.

But Jason is unhurt.

Dick gives a soft, shaky laugh, leaning back against the pole. The strength to hold himself upright, born from fear, is leaking from his muscles and he finds himself slumping.

He lets out a shaky sigh of relief.

He can’t see Jason’s eyes through the mask the boy is wearing, but he can tell his eyes are squeezed shut.

He’d thought he was going to die.

Dick knows that feeling.

The Joker laughs, loud and high pitched, a sound that seems to reverberate up to the highest support beams in the ceiling.

“Did you really think I’d end things this quickly?” he asks, grinning.

He stands, tucking the gun back away. “I have so much more planned for you.”

The clown-faced henchman stands up, wrestling Jason to his feet.

“Then why don’t you share it with me?”

A dark shape glides down, cape spread wide like some phantom apparition. A bat. Batman.

The punch that lands Joker’s chin is controlled, but just beneath the surface, even from where he is, Dick can read the barely concealed rage simmering just beneath the surface.

The Joker had dared touch his family.

And now the Batman would see him pay.

The Joker stumbles back under the force of the punch, but he doesn’t go down. 

“Oh, Batsy.” The Joker’s grin is like a feral dog, predatory. He wipes the blood from his chin. “I was wondering when you would show up. You do like to make an entrance, don’t you? And I wasn’t even ready! Spoils all the fun, you know!”

He pretends to pout for only a second, before clasping his hands together. “Ah, but who cares?” he says, sounding almost like a child at play. “We can have so much fun!”

The man holding Jason has been glancing around him, looking confused, maybe desperate, even under all the makeup. 

No doubt he’s wondering why no one else has showed up to deal with Batman, but Dick already knows the answer to that.

He’s sure the man does too, judging by the panicked expression that takes over his features. Perhaps he’s reconsidering his choice of employers. Dick should hope so. Maybe after a nice long stay in jail to cool him down, he can restart his life on the right side of the law.

But then again, that’s hardly likely. Gotham crime life has a way of digging its talons in deep and not letting go.

Especially when you were in deep enough to become a part of  _ this  _ gang.

The Joker turns his head, as if looking for someone. His henchmen, if Dick had to wager, but he doesn’t think Joker is all that concerned. He shakes his head, almost as if disappointed. “Have you  _ really  _ taken them all out, Batsy?” Something like false regret colors his words. He sighs. “It’s so hard to find good help these days, don’t you agree? You would have to, seeing how easy it was to take your little followers out of the equation.” The pitch in his voice gets a little higher. He’s enjoying himself. Of course he’s enjoying himself.

“After all,” the Joker says, with all the confidence of a man who knows he’s twisting the knife, “it isn’t like the redhead put up a fight. Why they were all so painfully easy…” He doesn’t get any further.

The punch that lands on the Joker’s jaw sends a crack echoing to the ceiling. The Joker’s head snaps back, his laughter coming close to drowning everything else out.

_ “You should have seen your face, Bats!” _

_ “... the old man too!” _

Who is he talking about? Gordon? Or Alfred? It can’t be Alfred. Joker doesn’t know. He _doesn’t know._ He can’t know. 

But even the thought of the Joker threatening Alfred is enough to make the feeling of spiders run down his back.

At some point, the Joker’s words stop making sense, and it’s just noise. Meaningless noise.

His vision is tilting, fading in and out, and he knows he’s picked the  _ perfect  _ time to pass out, but he’s sure that it’s Batman he sees, blow after blow raining down on Joker’s face.

And still the man laughs on, the sound weaving in and out of Dick’s ears.

Doesn’t he ever  _ stop? _

And then Jason was suddenly there beside him. Dick has no idea when he got there-or even how, but he realizes that the henchman must have dropped him to launch himself at Batman, too terrified of the consequences of  _ not  _ joining in to worry about anything else.

And the fact that he first shows up  _ here _ is oddly touching in a way.

Dick honestly has to bite back the urge to say, “ _ see? I knew you cared”  _ because, really, now is not the time.

Jason moves around to the back. He feels him tugging on the chains, working at them.

Nothing happens.

Jason curses, something Alfred would surely disapprove of were he here, but he’s not and Dick’s glad that he’s not, so he lets the thought slide.

(And because thinking of Alfred makes him homesick… and, besides, the room is starting to tilt again.)

Jason tries again and Dick is sure it doesn’t help that the boy’s hands are shaking. He’s rattled. 

Understandably so.

He’d just had a gun to his head.

Dick can’t think of anyone that  _ wouldn’t  _ effect, but that might just be because his head is cloudy.

Well, oh, yeah… there’s Bruce, but he’s… Batman.  Not exactly normal.

He squeezes his eyes shot with a groan. Don’t ever tell Bruce he sai…  _ thought _ that.

But then a stronger hand is on his shoulder-his uninjured one.

Dick doesn’t have to open his eyes to know who it is.

The figure moves behind him and it’s only a few seconds- _ minutes _ it feels like- before the chains fall away.

That only leaves one more problem: there’s nothing holding him up.

He falls forward, only this time, there’s someone to catch him.

  
  



	11. When It's All Over

Barbara likes to think of herself as a patient person. 

Being Batgirl… she kind of had to be.

It wasn’t like you got results overnight. 

You had to wait, sometimes for weeks, to get your man. 

Yet, Barbara can say that this is the longest she’s ever waited and still be 100% honest.

She can’t do anything. 

She’s tapping her fingers against her knees. She can’t feel it of course, but she does it anyways.

She hasn’t heard from Bruce. She tells herself it’s because he’s busy, busy saving them, which is why she doesn’t reach out to him.

He doesn’t need the distractions.

“They’re going to be fine.” A hand rests gently on her shoulder. Alfred.

Always Alfred.

The one they can always depend on.

Her bottom lip trembles. She raises her hand, hastily wiping away the tears that threaten to fall.

“I was  _ stupid! _ ” she says, voice tight. She’s angry, she’s  _ furious.  _ At herself. 

“On the contrary,” Alfred says, rather sternly, “you are not to blame.”

And she knows that maybe that’s true. For Bruce and for Dick.

They make their own decisions.

But Jason…

“Jason. I should have been able to stop him from leaving the cave.”

Alfred’s fingers on her shoulder squeeze a little tighter. “I’m sure we both know how stubborn Master Jason can be,” he says.

_ And sneaky, _ Barbara thinks bitterly.

If they don’t come back, she’ll never forgive them.

She’ll never forgive herself for that matter.

“I shouldn’t have opened the door,” she whispers.

“I’m sorry?”

“If I hadn’t opened the door… if I’d looked first… I wasn’t being careful.” She clenches and unclenches her fists.

There are so many things she could have done differently, that could have changed the outcome. They wouldn’t be here now if she’d just done things differently. If she’d been smart, instead of letting her guard down because she was home, a place that was supposed to be  _ safe. _

She blinks. She can’t… she can’t let herself think that way.

“It was no one’s fault,” Alfred tells her gently. Alfred-ever the grandfatherly type, bless him. “No one’s fault, but that clown’s. And it was  _ certainly  _ not your own. Don’t think that it was.”

“I know.” Barbara swallows thickly and nods. “I know, but…” She runs her tongue over her lips and lets her voice trail off.

She takes a shaky breath. This is no worse than anything any of them have gone through before. Three weeks ago, she would have reminded herself that they’ve all been taken before and that they’ve all escaped relatively unscathed.

Always.

_ Until now. _ Barbara runs her palm along the leg of her jeans, wishing she could feel  _ something. _

_ Anything. _

Three weeks ago, she would have been worried, sure, but she’d know… she’d know they’d get out of it alive.

But this… this has just served as a reminder that they’re all still vulnerable.

And that, sometimes, the damage done is permanent.

“They’re going to be okay,” she says aloud, more to herself than Alfred, but the butler answers all the same.

“I certainly hope so, Miss Gordon. I certainly hope so.”

“Barbara?” Bruce’s gravelly voice crackles through the Comm.

Barbara’s mouth drops open slightly and she glances at Alfred, a new hope alight on her features.

“It’s me, Bruce,” she answers, wheeling the chair forward. “What…” She takes a moment to keep her voice from cracking. “What happened?”

“Is Alfred with you?” 

Barbara almost cringes at the non-answer. “Bruce…” She needs to know, but Alfred steps forward.

“Master Bruce?” Alfred is well practiced in keeping his fears hidden, but Barbara is sure that he must be as anxious as she is.

“Alfred,” Bruce says. He sounds tired. Grim. Angry. Not at them, “I need you and Barbara to prepare the medical bay.”

_ Medical bay. _

So someone’s hurt.

Hurt but not dead.

At least not yet, but this means there’s hope and hope is alway better than nothing.

Bruce doesn’t sound like he’s in any pain. 

One of the boys then. She doesn’t want to ask who it is.

Alfred rocks back slightly, reaching the same conclusion she’s sure. “I… oh dear, yes,” he says, shaking his head. “We’ve have it ready for when you arrive, sir.” He takes a step back, likely to go do as Bruce has requested.

Barbara is about to join him when his voice calls her back.

“Barbara.”

She stops. She doesn’t respond. He knows she’s listening anyways.

“He’s going to be okay.” She freezes up at the words because it’s Dick he’s talking about. It’s… somehow she knows he wouldn’t have said it-not like that-if it had been Jason.

And she’s thankful.

She knows that it’s likely Dick is too.

Barbara doesn’t want any of them hurt, but sometimes… Sometimes she forgets how young Jason is. Or how much she cares about Dick.

Only for something like this to bring it all crashing back down on her.

Bruce is still on the line. She’s sure of it. “What happened?” she asks forcefully.

The hesitation on the other side is clear.

“Bullet wound.” The answer is short. Clipped. Obviously reluctant. 

Barbara’s breath stutters in her throat. A bullet wound. Unconsciously, her hand reaches to her stomach and she rests it there, where the bullet pierced.

A familiar phantom pain throbs and she bites her lip. Hard. Distracting herself from a pain that shouldn’t still exist, but sometimes does.

“In his shoulder,” Bruce adds gruffly. Then, more softly, “He’ll be okay.”

And then he signs out, leaving Barbara alone with her thoughts. Or… not so alone, considering Alfred is right there with her.

She closes her eyes, willing herself to breathe deep. She can’t afford to have a panic attack. Not here and not now, but she can… she can still hear his voice, his laughter. See his smile. A predator’s grin.

_ Think of something else, _ she tells herself, but it’s  _ there _ , glued to her memory. And as much as she’d like to forget these memories, she knows that time will only make them easier to bear.

They’ll never truly go away, which is something she’ll have to learn to live with.

“Miss Gordon?” Alfred’s voice snaps her out of her head and she turns to look at him.

He’s watching her, concerned, and she offers him a small smile that she hopes isn’t as shaky as it feels.

“I’m fine,” she reassures him.

Alfred looks like she’s just insulted his intelligence.

“I’m afraid I’ve been around Master Bruce for far too long for the customary ‘I’m fine’ to work on me,” he tells her.

She should have known better than to try and fool Alfred.  “I was just… remembering,” she says quietly. She drops her hand and tries to forget the memory of pain so blinding and intense that she thought she was going to die.

“There’s no shame in remembering,” Alfred answers gently. “The trick is not to let those memories control us. Or who we become.”

She nods. Bites her lip. Tries hard to hide the way it trembles. Doesn’t think it works, but Alfred is delicate enough not to comment on it. “I know I… I know… I just...” Her voice catches and Barbara shakes her head, setting herself to doing something useful.

Like helping Alfred set out the medical tools, prepare for when Dick would be brought in.

 


	12. I'll Be There

It’s not that bad.

It’s not  _ good _ for sure, but it’s certainly not as bad as it could have been.

_ He could have been dead. He could have been almost dead. _

_ He could have ended up like her. _

But the Joker’s bullet grazed his shoulder. Nothing more.

And part of her, she’ll admit it, is envious. Why couldn’t she have been that lucky?

But if she thinks like that, she’ll only drive herself crazy.

She’s lost her legs, yes, but she hasn’t been knocked out of the game.

There’s nothing Barbara can do, not to get him to the table, and she’s only going to get in the way if she tries to approach, so she lets Alfred work, lets Bruce hover, and her eyes fall on one dark haired young boy keeping his distance as if he’s afraid everything might fall apart if he comes any closer.

Jason.

In the frenzy of fear, it seems they’ve forgotten about him. 

Barbara frowns. He probably had a chewing out from Bruce on the way back. She knows Bruce was terrified. For both of them. She had been too. But Jason spent his early months here trying to live up to the legacy of Dick Grayson and, even if his confidence in the role of Robin has grown, he’s still not secure in his place among them.

Bruce, well meaning ass that he is, has done nothing to help that tonight.

What Jason did was careless, yes, but she knows she would have been apt to do the same thing had she been in any position to do so.

_ You’re better trained. More careful. _ Bruce’s voice echoes in her mind. She shrugs it off and since Dick is conscious and he’s going to be okay and there’s  _ no reason for her to hover _ no matter how much she wants to, she wheels her chair towards him.

Jason isn’t so wrapped up in his own mind that he doesn’t spot her coming and the moment he does, he tenses, as if bracing himself for the lecture he’s sure is coming from her too.

She smiles a disarming smile that she feels belongs more on Dick’s face than hers.

“Hey.” Once she’s close enough for him to hear her without her needing to raise her voice, she speaks. “You doing okay?”

Jason’s eyes meet hers for the briefest of a section, but then he snorts and looks away, giving one corner of the cave more attention than is merited. 

Barbara wants to reach out, brush his arm, reassure him that she’s there, but she doesn’t.

That doesn’t mean she’s just going to let it drop.

“Jason,” she says, doing her best impression of her firm voice (given the circumstances, she sounds more than a little weak.) “Look at me.” She pours all of her commanding force into those three words.

Jason’s shoulders stiffen, but at least she’s gotten him to look at her.

“You…” Barbara doesn’t know what to say now. She’s angry. She’s relieved. She’s so incredibly relieved that he’s alive. That they’re both alive. Unhurt is another matter entirely, but they’re both going to be okay. “You  _ scared  _ me!” she finally gasps out.

Jason flinches.  The movement is so small she almost missed it, but he’s been a part of their family for long enough.

She has an idea how to read him.

“I didn’t mean to,” Jason says. He studies the ground, uncomfortable. “‘I just…” There’s more than a little fire in his voice when he speaks. “I wanted to help. I didn’t just want to sit here and be so…”

“...helpless,” Barbara supplies. She knows the feeling. More than knows it. She’s living it now.

She can see Jason making the connection, but before he can apologize, she stops him.

“Don’t,” she tells him. “I know how you felt. If I was in your position,” she has to be mindful of how she puts this, “I’d want to do the same thing.” She hastens to continue before Jason can draw any conclusions. “I’m not saying you  _ should _ have left like you did, but…” 

Jason crosses his arms defensively. “I can take care of myself,” he asserts.

“Jason!” Barbara snaps, a little more harshly than she’d intended, but he shuts up. “That’s not the  _ point.  _ You don’t need to go throwing yourself at danger just to prove you can do the job.”

Jason bites his lip, unwilling to answer her, and Barbara wonders exactly what it is about her boys that makes them so damn stubborn.

She sighs and rubs her hair back. All this arguing and she hasn’t even gotten to the point. “The point is that I can understand why you did what you did.”

“It was a bad idea,” Jason says. 

“Sure,” Barbara says. “But you made it with the right intention. You wanted to  _ help.” _

“I wanted to be a  _ hero _ ,” he says, jaw tight. 

They all wanted to be heroes.

She was no exception.

She’d done stupid things too. Things that could have gotten her killed.

Barbara feels a twinge in her abdomen again. Automatically, she presses her hand against her stomach, as if doing so would make the pain leave her alone.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Jason. He opens his mouth, then closes it quickly, like he’s not sure what to say.

“Jason,” she says, catching his attention again, because she doesn’t want to suddenly become hard to talk to. She doesn’t want this to be taboo. “Your heart was in the right place.”

And then Barbara grabs his arm, pulling him down for a hug. He stiffens, surprised, but he doesn’t pull away.

“You scared me,” she says and she’s afraid she’s going to cry. “I don’t want to lose you.” Barbara wants to pull away so she can look him in the eye, make sure he understands how  _ serious _ she is, but she doesn’t want to let go of him either.

And so she doesn’t. “None of us do. You’re  _ important!” _

His arms tighten around her. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I wanted to help.”

Barbara is the one to break off the hug. “Don’t ever do that again,” she says, punching Jason lightly in the arm. “And, hey,” she continues, because she doesn’t know if she can count on Bruce to tell the kid himself, “you really scared Bruce too. He wasn’t just worried about Dick. He can’t lose either of you.”

 


	13. Always

Dick winces as Alfred finishes bandaging his shoulder. He knows he’s lucky to be alive, let alone still conscious. 

The bullet could have done a lot more. 

He’s lucky it didn’t do a lot more.

His head is hurting, and he knows he lost blood. 

Alfred dusts his hands in the universal gesture for a job well done and gives Dick a pointed glare. “There will be no leaping off buildings for you in the foreseeable future.”

Dick moves his shoulder gingerly. Then flinches, holding it closer to his side.

He flashes Alfred a rueful grin. “Don’t worry, Al. Right about now, I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

The butler snorts lightly and gives him a fond smile, nodding to his statement. “Of course,” he says. “And you’ll be right down here where we can monitor your recovery.”

Dick bites back a groan. “You can’t be serious.”

“When it comes to your health and wellbeing, young sir, I am most serious.”

“Duly noted. And… thanks, Alfred.”

Alfred takes a step back. “It’s what I’m here for.” The corners of his eyes crinkle, a weary smile fixed in place.

“It’s nice.” Dick smiles and swings his legs over the side of the medical table. The movement sends the room spinning at a dizzying speed.

He tilts over, the floor rising up to meet him. He braces himself for impact, but a strong arm catches him, skillfully avoiding his injuries and helping him to stand.

“Easy there,” Bruce tells him quietly, guiding him away from the table. 

“Hey.” Dick’s smile feels a little lopsided now, but that’s okay with him. “Didn’t hear you… come up, B.”

Bruce grunts, supporting Dick as he stumbles his way to the beds specifically down here for this very reason.  “You’re not…” Dick had seen Jason and Barbara over by the computers, both keeping their distance as Alfred worked. “You’re not too angry at him, are you?”

“He shouldn’t have left the cave,” Bruce almost growls.

“He was trying to help.” He’s feeling drowsy, but it’s important for Bruce to know this. He needs to hear it.

Bruce sets his jaw, repeating, “He shouldn’t have left.” They’ve reached the bed, Bruce helping Dick sit down. 

“Don’t be too hard on him,”  Dick says, grasping at Bruce’s shirtsleeve. 

Bruce gives him a hard stare, before running a hand through his hair with a sigh.

“I should have called you about Barbara.”

Dick almost frowns at the change in subject, but then he nods. It’s not quite an apology, but it’s still meant as one. And Dick understands how hard it is for the man to ever admit that he’s wrong.

He respects that and he appreciates it.

“Yeah, you should have,” Dick agrees with him, but there’s no animosity anymore. He only sounds tired now.“I was… really angry about that.” “And now?”

“It’s still a sore spot, but give me some time.”

Bruce accepts his answer and Dick continues, “I meant it though. Go easy on him.”

Bruce frowns at him. “What makes you think either one of you deserve to have it easy?” he asks.

“Hey,” Dick grins and gestures to his shoulder with a slight wince, “I just got shot. Don’t go pulling any lectures on me, okay?”

Bruce raises an eyebrow. “You both could have died. I can’t allow that.”

Dick grimaces, leaning back against the bed. “I know,” he says, closing his eyes. “I know.”

When Jason notices Bruce approaching, he’s sure he’s about to die.

Or… get fired at least.

Kicked out.

Barbara pats him once on the shoulder, a show of support, and then she leaves his side.

No doubt she’s going to check up on Dick, but Jason doesn’t watch her to see where she goes.

He too focused on Bruce and the 100% certainty that he is living his last moments.

But Bruce doesn’t seem angry… okay, so maybe he does. A little. But there’s no raging fire in his eyes, no smoke coming out of his ears.

He’s not even getting the Bat-glare. And that’s something.

He shifts uncomfortably, not quite meeting Bruce’s eyes, not quite avoiding them.

Suddenly, he’s anxious to have Barbara back at his side, but a quick peek tells him she’s already with Dick.

“Jason.” When Bruce speaks up, his voice is low and disapproving and Jason’s eyes flash back to his face.

Okay, so he is in trouble. Good to know. 

Not that there was ever any doubt.

He tries hard to keep any guilt from showing up in his expression, but he’s not exactly sure he succeeded.

Bruce doesn’t even reach him before he begins the lecture.

“What you did tonight was reckless,” he begins. He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to.

Jason can already hear the disappointment. He mentally rolls his eyes.

Maybe in any other situation, he would have done it to Bruce’s face, but not now.

He  _ knows  _ he screwed up tonight. He was reckless, headstrong,  _ stupid _ and he doesn’t know what else.

Probably suffering from some Be-A-Hero-Or-Die complex too.

Which should land him right in the loony bin come to think about it.

But then again… haven’t they all earned their own special padded room several times over. 

The doctors at Arkham would probably have a field day with them.

_ “Jason.” _

Jason’s eyes snap back to Bruce’s face. The man looks… well, annoyed is the wrong word, but he looks considerably more pissed than he did several minutes ago.

“Are you listening to what I’m saying to you?”

Another flash of guilt.

“Because I don’t think you are.”

Followed by a flash of irritation.

“Yes,” Jason answers, but he can’t keep the snark out his tone. 

Bruce’s eyes narrow. “This is serious, Jason.” “I know.” Jason snaps. He crosses his arms and glares off to the side. “I know, okay? I know I screwed up, so you can just… stop dragging this out and get it over with, okay?”

Bruce seems a little taken aback, but quickly recovers himself.

“What you did was not okay,” Bruce says. He glares at him. “You could have died.”

Jason opens his mouth to retort, because he  _ knows. _ He knows he could have died.

But then Bruce surprises him. “But I understand why you did it.” Jason shuts his mouth. Then he blinks, wondering if Bruce had really said that.

“You do?” he asks.

“You wanted to help Dick. Regardless of how you feel, you didn’t want to feel like you were letting him die. And you wanted the Joker to pay for what he did.” Jason crosses his arms and looks away. “He shot Barbara,” he whispers. “He deserves to pay.”

“And he will.” Bruce’s hand is on his shoulder. “He’s in Arkham. And he’s going to stay there.”

“What if he gets out?”

Bruce gives his shoulder a squeeze. 

"He won't."


	14. The Angel By My Side

“You know it wasn’t that long ago that you did this for me,” Barbara says softly. She’s holding Dick’s hand in her own, her thumb rubbing circles along the back.

“We do seem to find ourselves stuck with bedrest quite often, don’t we?” He grimaces.

“Goes with the job description,” Barbara says, with a wry smile. “I know.”

She thinks of her chair. 

“Yeah.” Dick leans back. “Sorry for… going and getting…” She knows the words “getting shot” are on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t say them. 

She pulls her hand away then. “If you weren’t hurt already, I’d slap you,” she says, frowning seriously at him.

“What?” Dick blinks at her, confused.

“You got yourself  _ shot _ , Dick. Of all the stupid things…!” She falls silent, as if she no longer knows what to say.

“So… I don’t get a kiss then?”

“What?” Barbara turns on him, flabbergasted. She shakes her head. “I…”

“Hey.” Dick cuts her off, before she can get angry again, taking her hand once more and giving it a squeeze. “Getting hurt comes with the job, okay?” Maybe sometime earlier it would have come off as insensitive, but right now he knows that’s what she needs to hear. “Sometimes bad things happen. But we come out of them stronger.”

“Except you’re lucky that bullet only grazed your shoulder! You could have been killed. Or worse. Dick...” 

Dick squeezes her hand tighter.“But I  _ didn’t.  _ I’m going to be okay.” He takes a breath. “ _ You’re  _ going to be okay.”

Her fingers curl tightly around his hand and she gives him a watery smile. “I’m never going to fly again,” she says, softly, like it’s something that’s been on her mind for some time.

And it is. 

He knows her, knows how much it must be eating her up inside.

And his own getting shot hasn’t done much to help matters.

“So what?” He can’t exactly shrug with his injured shoulder, so he doesn’t try. “You don’t need to fly. Batgirl was a piece of you and losing her was painful. I know. But she wasn’t  _ you _ you.” He’s looking at her in earnest. “You can become someone new now. Forge a new identity. You can be  _ stronger.” _

_ Stronger. _

Barbara finds herself able to smile.

  
  



End file.
